Miscellaneous  Books, 
srnment  Pablicatlons, 
Washington,  D.  C. 


y^\      ^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


ooLLEcrior* 


I- 


DOWN  IN  TENNESSEE. 


Edmund  Klrke's  Books. 

All  neat  12mos,  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 

I. 

Among  the  Piiies. 

IL 

My  Southern  Friends. 

III. 
Down  in  Tennessee. 


*^*  Single  copies  sent  by  mail,  postage  free, 
Carleton,    Publislier, 
New  York. 


DOWN 


IN    TENNESSEE 


UfD 


BxVCK  BY  WAY  OF  RiCHMOJfD. 


EDMUXD  KIRKE, 

AUTUOR    or    "AilONG   THE   PINF.8,''    "ilT   SOUTHERN    FKIENDS,"    ETC. 


'&. 


XEW  YORK: 

CARLETOX,   PUBLISHER,  413  BROADWAY. 

M.DCCC.LXIV. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S64, 

By  J.  E.  GILMORE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


M'CEEA   <h    MILLER,    STaREOTTPEES.  C.    A.    ALVOUD,    PEINTER. 


TO 


SIDNEY    HOWAKD    GAY, 

THESE     SKETCHES 


ABE    DEJJICATED 


WITH  THE  TRUE  AND  EARNEST  REGARD 


HIS    FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


602920 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I 


PAGE 

At  Louisville 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
On  the  Road 23 

CHAPTER   III. 

GUEEILLAS 35 

CHAPTER   lY. 
The  Union  Scout 45 

CHAPTER  v. 
The  Nashville  Prison 69 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Army  Chaplain 70 

CHAPTER   VII. 
The  Captain's  Story 83 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Poor  White  Man 104 

CHAPTER   IX. 
The  Old  Negro's  Story 122 

•  CHAPTER  X. 
The  Regimental  Hospital 134 

CHAPTER   XI. 
The  Man  who  "  don't  Surrender  Much." 139 


8    ^  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XII.  FAOit 

Bible  Smith 144 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Bible's  Story 168 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Bible's  Scouting  Adventures 169 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  "  Poor  Whites" 182 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Day  with  Rosecrans 196 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Views  of  Southern  Men , 219 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Southern  Letter 229 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Colonel  James  F.  Jaquess 233 

CHAPTER   XX. 
Why  I  went  to  Richmond 248 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
On  the  Way  to  Richmond 252 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
In  Richmond 265 


DOWN  IN  TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER    I 


AT    LOUISVILLE. 


A  DESIRE  to  study  the  undercurrents  of  popular  sentiment  at 
the  South,  and  to  meet  some  of  "my  Southern  friends,"  whom 
tlie  fortunes  of  war  had  made  our  prisoners  within  sight  of 
their  homes,  led  me,  early  in  the  month  of  May,  to  visit  the 
Southwest.  While  there  I  came  in  contact  with"  many  intelli- 
gent men,  of  all  shades  of  political  opinion ;  and  from  them 
gathered  much  that  is  illustrative  of  the  real  state  of  Southern 
feeling,  and  of  the  real  purposes  of  the  leaders  of  the  Rebellion. 
In  the  hope  that  what  I  saw  and  heard  may  not  be  without  in- 
terest to  those  who  have  not  had  the  opportunity  of  personal 
observation,  I  propose  to  give  in  the  following  chapters  some 
sketches  of  the  men  I  met,  and  the  scenes  I  witnessed,  during 
a  month's  sojourn  in  a  section  which  is  being  upheaved  by  the 
passions  and  desolated  by  the  fires  of  our  civil  war. 

Arrivinor  at  Louisville  I  at  once  sounjht  out  Colonel  Mundv, 
the  gentlemanly  commandant  of  that  post,  to  ascertain  the 
whereabouts  of  my  captive  friends.  lie  could  give  me  no 
definite  information,  but  presumed  they  were  at  Nashville. 
"However,"  he  said,  "prisoners  are  not  kept  there  long.  They 
1* 


10  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

are  sent  to  Vicksburg  for  exchange  as  quickl}^  as  possible.  If 
you  desire  to  see  them,  you  had  better  push  on  immediately." 

This  put  me  in  a  dilemma.  The  railroad  below  Bowling 
Green  was  infested  with  guerillas,  and  on  several  recent  oc- 
casions, they  had  assailed  the  trains,  and  robbed  and  maltreated 
passengers.  Tlie  cars  were  insufficiently  guarded,  and  travelling 
was  therefore  attended  with  considerable  personal  hazard.  In 
these  circumstances  I  had  gladly  listened  to  the  suggestion  of 
Parson  Brownlow — whom  I  had  met  at  Cincinnati — to  lie  over 
at  Louisville  and  accompany  him  and  Governor  Johnson  to 
Nashville.  They  would  be  attended  by  a  guard  strong  enough 
to  beat  off  any  roving  band  that  ventured  to  attack  the  train  ; 
but  would,  perhaps,  not  start  for  a  week.  In  the  mean  time, 
my  Secession  friends  might  be  sent  to  "  parts  unknown." 
Therefore,  if  I  waited,  I  was  likely  to  miss  one  of  the  main  ob- 
jects of  my  journey,  and  If  I  went  forward  I  ran  the  risk  of 
getting  a  bullet  under  my  waistcoat,  or  such  an  "inside  view" 
of  Rebeldom  as  might  not  be  agreeable.  Either  horn  of  the 
dilemma  seemed  objectionable.  While  uncertain  which  one  to 
choose,  the  small  clock  in  the  office  of  the  Louisville  Hotel 
sounded  twice,  and  I  walked  up  to  the  dining-room. 

On  my  right  at  the  table  sat  a  tall,  squarely  built  man, 
wearing  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant-colonel  of  infantry.  He 
had  a  broad,  open,  resolute  face — ridged  and  sun-browned,  and 
a  stiff,  military  air,  but  there  was  something  about  him  that 
seemed  to  invite  conversation,  and  after  a  while  I  said  to  him : 

"  You  are  travelling.  Sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir,  I  am  returning  to  my  regiment  at  Triune." 

"  Is  it  entirely  safe  going  down  the  Nashville  road  ? 

"  Not  entirely  so.     When  I  came  up,  a  week  ago  Monday, 


AT  LOUISVILLE.  11 

we  were  fired  into  by  a  band  of  forty-eight,  but  we  beat  them 
off." 

"What  were  the  circumstances?" 

"It  occurred  just  this  side  of  Franklin.  We  heard  there  of 
a  party  being  in  the  vicinity,  and  took  on  board  a  squad  of 
thirty  men.  We  had  gone  on  about  three  miles,  when  the 
engineer  discovered  the  track  was  torn  up,  where  a  wood  lines 
the  road,  and  at  once  reversed  the  engine.  The  guerillas  were 
posted  behind  the  trees,  and  as  the  train  halted,  poured  a  volley 
iuto  us,  and,  yelling  like  devils,  made  a  rush  for  the  cars.  I 
got  this  in  readiness" — taking  from  his  belt  a  large  army 
repeater,  and  tapping  it  rather  affectionately — "  the  moment  I 
heard  the  train  slacking-up,  and  when  the  leader  came  within 
fifteen  feet  of  the  platform  I  fired  through  the  window  and 
killed  him.  My  second  shot  brought  the  next  devil  to  his 
knees,  and  made  the  rest  halt  for  an  instant.  In  that  instant 
the  soldiers  in  the  forward  car,  who  had  waited  to  cap  their 
muskets,  gave  them  a  volley,  and  they  skedaddled,  leaving  four 
dead  and  three  wounded  on  the  ground.  W^e  had  on  board 
three  paymasters  with  over  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  in 
monev,  and  the  fellows  might  have  made  a  rich  haul." 

"And  they  would  have  done  so  but  for  your  prompt  shots 
giving  the  soldiers  time  to  fire.     You  saved  the  train  !" 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  the  Colonel,  pleasantly,  as  if  not  displeased 
with  my  compliment,  "the  General  saved  it." 

"  How  so  ?     Was  Rosecrans  on  board  ?" 

"  No ;  but  a  little  while  ago  he  ordered  all  officers  to  wear 
side-arras  when  off  duty.  But  for  that  my  pistol  would  have 
been  in  my  valise;  for  it's  a  nuisance  to  carry  ten  pounds  of 
iron  all  the  while  dangling  at  your  side.     The  General  foresaw 


12  DOWN    IN   TENNESSKK. 

just  such  emergencies.  He  thinks  of  every  thing,  Sir.  I  reckon 
he  never  sleeps." 

"  I  suppose  he  is  a  vigilant  officer." 

"  Yes,  Sir ;  I  was  all  throuo-h  the  Mexican  war,  and  have  seen 
something  of  generals.  Rosecrans  is  the  ablest  one  I  ever 
knew." 

"  He  certainly  is  successful." 

"  Always  ;  never  was  defeated,  and  never  will  be.  He  plan- 
ned and  won  McClellan's  battles  in  Western  Virginia ;  did  the 
same  for  Grant  in  Mississippi,  and  at  Stone  River — why,  Sir, 
when  we  were  thoroughly  whipped,  and  every  man  in  the  army 
knew  it,  he,  singly,  regained  the  battle.  There  is  not  another 
man  living  who  could  have  done  it." 

This  was  said  with  an  enthusiasm  that  provoked  a  smile ;  but 
I  quietly  remarked  :  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  such  an  account  of 
him.  I  intend  to  visit  him,  but  am  undecided  whether  to  go 
down  at  once,  or  to  wait  till  the  Governor  arrives,  and  take  ad- 
vantage of  his  escort." 

"  It  will  be  safer  to  go  at  once.  The  Governor  will  stay  here 
a  day  or  two,  and  as  this  place  is  full  of  rebels,  every  guerilla 
in  Tennessee  will  know  when  he  starts.  If  they  can  muster 
strong  enough  they'll  surely  attack  him.  I  go  down  by  the 
next  train,  and  will  be  glad  to  have  your  company." 

"Thank  you.  Your  revolver  has  acquitted  itself  so  well, 
that  I  am  disposed  to  trust  it.  I'll  go  with  you.  Sir ;"  and 
rising,  we  left  the  table  together. 

The  cars  were  not  to  start  till  the  following  morning,  and  the 
afternoon  being  on  our  hands,  we  seated  ourselves  in  the  smok- 
ing room,  and  resumed  the  conversation.  I  soon  gleaned  some- 
thiiio;   of  the  Colonel's   history.     He  had  started  in  hfe  with 


AT  LOUISVILLE.  13 

only  a  clear  head  and  a  strong  pair  of  hands,  but  was  then  the 
owner  of   a  well-stocked   farm  of  three   hundred  and   twenty 
acres,  and  in  affluent  circumstances.     His  experience  in  Mexico 
had  <Tiven  him  a  military  education,  and  on  the  breaking  out  of 
the  war.  Governor  Morton  tendered  him  a  colonel's  commission. 
Having  a  young  family  growing  up  about  him,  and  being  past 
the  age  when  love  of  adventure  lures  men  into  danger,  he  de- 
clined it.     But  when  the  new  regiments  were  called  for,  and  it 
seemed  doubtful  that  his  county  would  furnish  her  quota,  he 
volunteered,  to  set,  as  he  said,  "the  boys  an  example."     His 
regiment,  the    82d  Indiana,  at  once  filled  up,  and  he  was  ap- 
pointed  its  lieutenant-colonel.     He  .had  been  in  many  small 
eno-ao-ements,  and  at  Stone  River  was  in  command  of  the  six 
hundred  skirmishers  who,  at  the  close  of  the  last  day's  fight,  in 
the  darkness   of  midnight,  advanced  two  miles,  and  for  three 
hours' "  felt"  a  hostile  force  of  five  thousand.     So  long  as  the 
West  sends  such  men  to  the  war,  the  friends  of  the  Union  may 
be  of  good  heart,  for  they  cannot  be  beaten. 

After  a  time  the  conversation  turned  upon  politics,  and  my 
new  acquaintance  said  to  me :  "  A  large  majority  of  Rosccrans's 
men  went  into  the  war  friendly  to  slavery ;  but  not  one  of  them 
would  now  consent  to  any  peace  that  did  not  destroy  it  root 
and  branch.  Nine  months  ago  I  left  home  a  Breckinridge 
Democrat,  and  now,  sir,  I'm  as  black  an  Abolitionist  as  Wendell 
Phillips." 

"And  what,  pray,  turned  you  about  so  suddenly?" 

"  Seeing  slavery  as  it  in.     One  little  incident  convinced  me 

that  a  negro   is  a  man— just  as  much  of  one  as  I  am -and 

therefore  not  fit  to  be  a  slave.     It  occurred  at  Triune,  where 

I     am    now    stationed.       Just    outside    of    our    lines    lives    a 


14  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

planter  who  professes  strong  Union  sentiments.  He  used  to 
mix  freely  with  our  officers,  keep  open  house  for  them,  and 
was,  apparently,  a  whole-souled,  hospitable  fellow.  He  owned 
a  good  many  negroes,  and  among  them  a  quiet,  respectable  old 
darky  of  about  sixty,  who  supplied  my  mess  with  eggs  and 
poultr}^  Not  long  ago  our  pickets,  stationed  about  one  hun- 
dred yards  from  this  planter's  house,  were  fired  upon  several 
times  from  the  woods  near  by.  It  was  done  regularly  twice  a 
week,  and  on  each  occasion  occurred  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  At  last  one  of  our  boys  was  hit,  and,  being  in  com- 
mand of  the  pickets,  I  set  about  investigating  the  matter. 
There  was  nothing  to  point  suspicion  at  the  planter,  except  the 
fact  of  his  being  a  slaveholder,  but  that  convinced  me  he  had  a 
hand  in  it.  I  never  knew  one  of  them,  however  strong  his  pro- 
fessions of  loyalty,  who  was  not  at  heart  a  rebel. 

"  I  sent  for  the  old  darky,  to  question  hira,  and,  learning 
of  it,  the  planter  came  to  my  quarters,  and  insisted  that  he  had 
a  right  to  hear  what  his  negro  said.  I  was  satisfied  I  couldn't 
get  the  truth  out  of  the  slave  in  the  master's  presence,  but  I 
consented  to  go  on  with  the  examination. ,  I  put  some  leading 
questions  to  the  old  man,  and  in  a  quiet,  straightforward  way 
he  told  me  that  an  officer  of  Bragg's  army  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  the  mansion  every  few  nights  for  several  weeks. 
He  said  he  came  about  midnight,  left  his  horse  and  orderly 
concealed  in  the  woods,  and  went  up  to  the  mistress's  room  as 
soon  as  he  entered  the  house.  There  the  master  would  join 
him,  and  remain  with  him  generally  for  an  hour  or  two.  And 
he  added,  with  perfect  coolness :  '  D'rec'ly  af  er  de  cap'n  wud 
leab,  Sar,  I'd  allers  yere  de  shootin'  'mong  de  trees.  I  reckoned 
dat  wus  bery  quar,  till  finarly,  one  day,  I  yered  Massa  a  tellin' 


AT  LOUISVILLE. 


15 


Missus  dat  de  Cap'n  war  bound  to  wing  one  ob  dcra  Yankees 
anyhow;  I  aske.l  liim  why  the  officer  went  there,  and  the 
old  fellow,  scratching  his  wool,  and  assuming  a  very  stupid 
look,  said : 

*' '  1  doesn't  knows.  Gunnel.  It  allers  'peared  bery  quar  ter 
me  dat  he  shud  come,  but  I  reckons  de  Secesh  wants  ter  larn 
whot's  gwine  on  in  de  camps.  Massa,  heseft',  wus  allers  bery 
curous  'bout  dat,  Sar,  an'  he  sot  me,  ober  an'  ober  agin,  ter 
fine  out— tole  me  I  muss  keep  my  yeres  wide  open  wheneber  I 
toted  you  de  truck ;  but,  you  allers  hab  your  moufh  shet  so 
bery  close.  Gunnel,  dat  I  neber  could  fine  out  a  ting— not  a  ting, 
Sar.'" 

Here  the  Golonel  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  As  soon  as  he 
could  readjust  the  muscles  of  his  mouth  to  the  English  dialect, 
he  continued  : 

"  Through  the  whole  of  this,  the  planter  threatened  him,  and 
he  finally  stormed,  and  raved  at  him  like  a  madman,  but  the 
old  Ghristian  went  on  as  quiet  as  a  Quaker  meeting,  only  once 
in  a  while  answering  his  master,  with— 'You  knows  it'm  de 
Lord's  trufh,  massa.  M  karn't  say  nuffin  else,  massa;  I'se  bery 
sorry,  massa— 'pears  like  I'd  die  fur  you,  massa,  'case  I  toted 
you  when  you's  a  chile,  an  I'se  allers  lubed  you ;  but  I  karn't 
say  nuffin  else— de  Lord  woant  leff  me  say  nuffin  else,  massa. 
No,  He  woant !' 

"The  darky  knew  we  might  march  at  any  moment,  and  that, 
when  we  did,  there  were  ninety-nine  chances  in  a  hundred  of 
his  being  whipped  to  death  by  his  master,  or  by  some  of  the 
nei«dibors,  if  his  master  wasn't  left  to  do  it ;  and  yet  he  was  as 
cool  as  I  am.  Martin  Luther,  when  he  went  into  Worms,  ex- 
pecting  to   meet   the    devil   himself,    didn't   show   the    moral 


16  DOWN    IN    TENNfeSSEE. 

courage  of  that  old  negro,  lie  convinced  me  that  the  Llack 
is  altogether  too  much  of  a  man  to  be  a  slave." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  the  master  ?" 

"  Nothing.  Our  Brigadier,  who  had  been  a  frequent  guest 
at  his  house,  thought  it  not  exactly  the  thing  to  hang  a  white 
man  on  a  '  nigger's'  testimony,  and  so  let  him  off.  If  I  had  had 
my  way,  he  would  have  hung  higher  than  Ilaman." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  negro  ?" 

"  Xot  many  days  after  his  master  was  released,  he  came  to 
my  tent  one  evening,  and  with  a  little  hesitation,  said  :  '  Gunnel, 
I  don't  want  ter  'sturb  you,  but  de  Lord  come  ter  me  lass 
night,  Sar,  an'  he  telled  me  ter  leff  you  know  what's  a  gwinc 
on.' 

"  And  what  is  a  going  on  ?"  I  asked. 

"  '  Wall,  you  see,  Gunnel,  de  debil  hab  got  inter  massa ;  an' 
he  swar  he'm  gwine  ter  kill  me  fur  tellin'  you  'bout  de  Secesh 
cap'n.' 

"  I  assured  him  I  would  protect  him,  and  accordingly,  in  a 
day  or  two,  I  packed  him  off,  with  his  traps  and  family,  to  the 
Free  States.  It  wasn't  exactly  according' to  Tennessee  law,  and 
his  owner  protested  warmly  against  it,  but  I  advised  him  to 
prove  his  loyalty  and  claim  his  property  of  Uncle  Sam. 

"  The  old  darky  lived  in  a  little  log  cabin  near  his  master's 
house,  and  the  day  he  was  to  leave  I  rode  out  to  see  him  safely 
off.  His  small  amount  of  personal  property  was  stowed  away 
in  the  ambulance,  which  was  to  take  him  to  Xashville ;  and  his 
wife,  a  good-looking  mulatto  (the  old  fellow  himself  was  blacker 
than  ink)  had  already  mounted  the  wagon.  A  pretty  quadroon 
woman  of  about  thirty,  who  passed  as  his  daughter — thougli 
she  couldn't  have  been  of  his  blood — was  helping  on  to  tlie 


AT   LOUISVILLE.  17 

seat  one  of  the  most  beautiful  white  children  I  ever  saw.  She 
was  well  dressed,  and  had  a  fair,  clear,  rosy  skin,  and  an  eye  as 
blue  as  indigo.  Supposing  she  was  the  master's  child,  I  asked 
her  where  she  was  going.  '  Way  up  Norfh,  niassa,  'long  wid 
gran'dad,'  she  answered. 

"  I  was  thunderstruck.  She  was  the  old  woman's  grand- 
child, the  planter's  own  child,  and  a  slave !  I  never  till  then 
realized  what  an  accursed  thing  slavery  is." 

While  sauntering  about  the  hotel  during  the  day,  I  had 
noticed  a  placard  which  read  somewhat  as  follows  : 

"  Passengers  for  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  road  are  notified 
that  the  wagon  will  be  in  readiness  to  take  baggage  to  the  Ex- 
aminer's OflSce  at  four  p.  m." 

As  this  notice  applied  to  us,  I  suggested,  as  the  Colonel 
finished  his  story,  that  we  should  repair  to  the  "Custom 
House." 

We  found  it  on  a  side  street,  a  dingy  room  about  twenty  feet 
square.  It  was  densely  crowded  with  carpet  bags,  portman- 
teaus, packing  trunks,  and  a  score  of  German  Israelites,  each 
one  of  whom  was  soliciting  the  immediate  attention  of  the 
single  examining  official  to  the  general  assortment  of  dry  goods 
and  groceries  which  his  particular  trunk  contained.  Another 
official  was  behind  the  counter  affixing  to  the  "  passed  "  pack- 
ages, a  strip  of  white  muslin,  and  two  mammoth  daubs  of  red 
sealing  wax.  The  office  was  advertised  to  close  at  five  o'clock, 
and  it  then  wanted  but  ten  minutes  of  that  hour.  As  our 
luggage  could  not  leave  the  State  without  having  two  of  those 
red  seals  upon  it,  each  duly  stamped  TJ.  S..  the  prospect  of  its 
going  in  the  morning  seemed  decidedly  dubious.     With  a  little 


13  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

inward  trepidation,  I  said  to  the  coatless  official :  "  Is  there 
any  probability  of  our  turn  coming  this  evening,  sir?" 

"Are  you  an  *  Israelite  indeed  V  " 

"  jS"o,  sir,  neither  in  name  nor  in  deed.  Fm  a  gentleman  at 
large ;  my  friend  here,  is  a  Union  officer." 

"Ah,  Colonel  I  how  are  you  ?"  exclaimed  the  official,  looking 
up  and  touching  his  cap  to  my  companion.  The  Colonel  re- 
turned his  salutation,  and  in  a  moment  the  other  was  at  the 
bottom  of  my  trunk,  taking  an  inventory  of  the  spare  waist- 
coats, extra  socks,  and  under-garments  which  it  contained.  In 
five  minutes  the  ceremonies  were  over,  and  we  left  the  "  receipt 
of  customs"  devoutly  thankful  that  we  were  not  of  the  wander- 
ing tribes  of  Israel.  The  whole  scene  was  decidedly  suggestive 
of  a  landing  among  the  French  or  Austrian  officials ;  and  it 
was  with  difficulty  I  realized  that  I  was  in  an  inland  American 
town,  and  merely  passing  from  one  State  of  the  Union  to  another. 

As  I  was  seated,  after  supper,  in  the  porch  of  the  hotel,  en- 
joying a  fragrant  Havana,  and  the  cool  evening  breeze,  a  lean, 
elongated  "  native"  approached  me.  He  had  a  thin,  haggard 
face ;  a  tawny  red  skin ;  and  a  mass  of  coarse  black  hair,  which 
fell  round  his  neck,  like  hemp  round  a  mop-handle.  His  butter- 
nut clothes  were  much  the  worse  for  wear,  and  torn  in  many 
places ;  and  the  legs  of  his  pantaloons,  which  made  no  eflfort  to 
reach  the  doarse  brogans  that  encased  his  feet,  disclosed  a  skin 
so  scratched  and  furrowed  that  it  seemed  to  have  been  gone 
over  with  a  harrow.  I  had  seen  thousands  of  his  class,  but 
there  was  a  look  of  such  intense  wildness  in  his  gray  eyes, 
which  moved  in  their  sockets  with  the  unsteady  glare  of  a  wild 
beast's,  that  I  involuntarily  started  and  turned  toward  him. 
Seeing  my  movement,  he  said,  in  a  quiet,  civil  tone : 


AT    LOUISVILLE.  1^ 

«'  How  dy  ge,  stranger  ?     Dy'ge  b'long  yere  2" 
"  No,  Sir." 

"  B'long  ter  the  army  T'     (I  wore  a  suit  of  regimental  blue, 
minus  shoulder-straps  and  brass  buttons.) 
"  No,  Sir,  I'm  a  peace  man." 
"Peace  man  !— Copperhead ?"  and  his  eyes  glared   a   little 

more  wildly  than  before. 

"No,  Sir,  not  exactly  that,  but  I  let  others  do  the  fighting." 
"  Ye  does  1     Wall,  Sir,  you  uns  is  a  cuss  ter  the  kentry.     Yc 

orter  be  druv  out  uv  hit.      The   man   thet   woant  fight   now 

haint  fit  t"er  live." 

"  You're  right,  my  friend.     Sit  down ;"  and  I  motioned  him 

to  a  vacant  chair  beside  me.     He  continued  standing,  evidently 

Bot  inclined  to  approach  nearer  to  a  man  of  peace  principles. 

Observing  this,  I  added  : 

"  You  misunderstand  me— I'm  a  peace  man,  but  I  fight  in 

my  way — with  a  pen." 

"Oh!  thet's   hit?  Wall,  thet'll  do,  ef  ye  gwo  hit  powerful 

strong." 

"  And  how  do  you  fight  ?" 

"  Ary  how  ?     The  rebs  '11  tell  ye  thet." 

"  But  you  don't  wear  the  clothes ;  how  is  that  ?" 

"  Why,  me  an'  twelve  right  smart  uns  hes  been  beatin'  the 

bushes— keepin'  the  deestrict  clar;  but  they's  grow'd  ter  much 

fur  us." 

"Oh!  bushwacking." 

"Yas,  but  I  hcd  ter  put  out.  I'se  gwine  inter  the.  army 
now— but  I  muss  sell  my  mars  fust.  Dy'ge  know  whot  Govern- 
ment '11  pay  fur  a  right  smart  chunk  uv  a  mar  ?" 

"A  hundred  and  five  dollars,  I  believe,  is  the  regular  price." 


20  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  Taint  'nuff  fur  mine.  They's  powerful  good  brutes.  I 
must  git  raore'n  thet,  case  my  'ooman  '11  hev  nothin'  else,  an' 
she's  sickly  like." 

"  But  if  you  go  into  tlie  army  you  can  save  a  part  of  your 
pay  for  her." 

"Xo,  I  karn't.  Fll,  be  shot — I  feel  hit — I'se  made  up  my 
mind  ter  hit."  As  he  said  this,  he  seated  himself  in  the  chair 
I  had  offered  him,  and  stared  at  me  with  a  still  wilder,  crazier 
look.  I  saw  that  some  terrible  calamity  had  unsettled  his  in- 
tellect, and  I  said,  in  a  sympathizing  tone : 

"  You're  not  well :  you're  not  fit  to  go  into  the  army  now." 

"  Yas,  I  is.  Sir.  I  kin  fight  as  hard  as  ary  man  ye  knows. 
I'se  a  little  gin  out  jest  now,  'case  I'se  rid  nigh  outer  a 
hundred  an'  fifty  mile,  an'  hed  ter  tote  my  'ooman  a  powerful 
piece  o'  the  way." 

"  Where  have  you  come  from  ?" 

"  Clay  county,  nigh  on  ter  Manchester.  I  lived  thar.  I'se 
plumb  from  thar  this  evenin'." 

"  And  were  you  driven  away  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir;  druv  away — robbed — hous'n  burned — every  thing 
burned,  an'  my  ole  mother — killed — killed !  killed  !"  He  bent 
down  his  head  while  he  spoke,  and  as  he  repeated  the  last 
words  they  seemed  to  well  nigh  strangle  hira. 

"  It  can't  be  possible !"  I  exclaimed;  "human  beings  don't  do 
%uch  things  !" 

"But  they  haint  human  bein's — they's  fien's — devils  from 
hell— from  hell.  Sir." 

"  I  know  their  passions  are  roused,  but  I  did  not  know  they 
murdered  womcnr 

"  They  does.  Sir.     I'll  tell  ye  'bout  hit ;"  and  grasping  one 


AT   LOUISVILLE.  21 

arm  of  my  chair,  and  leaning  forward  with  his  unsteady,  blaz- 
ing eye  looking  into  mine,  he  told  me  the  following  story : 

"'Bout  a  mile  from  whur  I  b'long  thar  lived  a  ole  man  by 
the  name  of  Begley — Squire  Bcgley  we  called  him,  though  he 
didn't  own  no  slaves,  lie  wus  nigh  on  ter  seventy,  but  wus  a 
right  peart  ble  man,  an'  Union  ter  the  core — two  on  his  boys — 
Sam  an'  Jolm,  is  in  the  army  now — 8th  loyal  Kaintuck.  Wall, 
'bout  a  fortnit  gone,  on  the  mornin'  uv  the  fifteenth  uv  April, 
three  men,  dressed  in  Union  does,  comes  ter  the  ole  gentle- 
man's house,  an'  telled  him  they  wus  round  raisin'  a  company 
ter  put  down  the  rebs  thet  wus  poreing  inter  the  county.  The 
ole  man  wus  mighty  pleased,  an'  I  reckon  he  wus  unprudent  in 
his  talk ;  fur  when  they'd  d rawed  him  out,  they  telled  him 
they  wus  raally  Secesh  soldiers.  Then  he  ordered  'em  ter 
leave,  but  they  trottled  him,  an'  dragged  him  off  ter  the  edge 
uv  a  branch,  'bout  half  a  mile  away,  an'  thar  hung  him  ter  the 
limb  uv  a  tree.  A  ole  nig  thet  war  passin'  'long  the  road  hecrd 
the  ole  Squire's  cries,  as  he  begged  'em  ter  hev  marcy  on  his 
gray  bars ;  an'  knowin'  I  war  ter  home,  he  put  fur  my  house, 
and  telled  me  on  it.  I  axed  him  ter  tote  my  mars  ter  the 
bush,  fur  1  know'd  thar  wus  more  on  'em  round,  an'  feared 
they'd  be  arter  the  nags,  and  then  I  put  off  ter  save  the  ole 
man.  I  war  too  late.  He  war  dead,  an'  the  infernal  devils 
bed  got  nigh  back  ter  his  house,  meanin'  to  steal  his  fillies  an' 
what  plunder  he  bed  thet  could  be  toted.  I  follered'  em  an 
so  soon  as  1  come  in  distance,  I  drapped  one  on  'em.  Then 
me  an'  tothers  tuk  ahind  trees,  an'  blazed  away  ter  one  another 
fuT  more'n  a  hour.  1  winged  one,  but  I  got  a  ball  yere," 
showing  an  ugly  wound  in  his  shoulder.  "  Arter  a  while  six 
more  on  'em  rid  up  the  road  an'  come  at  me.     I  seed  it  warnt 


Z25  DOWX    IN    TENNES3EEE. 

no  use,  so  I  put  fur  the  thick  timber,  an'  finarly,  seein'  they 
couldn't  kotch  me,  they  guv  up  the  chase.  I  know'd  twouldn't 
do  ter  gwo  home,  so  I  made  a  long  spell  round,  ahiud  a  hill, 
an'  put  for  the  bushes  whar  I  thort  the  ole  darky'd  be  with  the 
mars.  It  hed  got  ter  be  nigh  outer  dark,  an'  I'd  grow'd  pow- 
erful weak,  on  'count  uv  the  blood  I'd  let,  so  I  sot  down  an' 
tried  ter  stop  it.  I  hedn't  sot  long  'fore  I  thort  I  heerd  a 
'ooman  schreechin',  an'  lookin'  round  I  seed  my  own  wife. 
She'd  jest  lost  har  baby,  an'  hedn't  been  out  uv  bed  fur  nigh  a 
month,  but  she'd  come  six  mile  through  the  brush  arter  me. 
She  couldn't  speak,  but  she  brung  me  a  short  piece  from 
ahind  the  hill,  an'  show'd  me  my  hous'n  an'  barn — all  I  hed  in 
the  world — a  heap  uv  black  an'  ashes !  They'd  burn'd  'em, 
Sir,  an'  druv  my  sick  wife,  an'  my  ole  mother,  who'd  been  bed- 
rid for  more'n  two  year,  out  uv  doors  I" 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  in  a  slow,  broken  voice, 
added :  "  Thet  night  she  died.  Died — thar — in  the  dark,  an' 
the  cold — nothin'  under  har  but  the  yerth — nothin'  over  har 
but  the  ole  gown  thet  my  'ooman  belt  up  to  keep  the  rain  off 
har  face ;  an'  when  I  kneeled  down  thar  on  the  ground  ter  yere 
har  last  words,  I  swore^  Sir,  I'd  never  rest  till  I'd  drunk  thar 
blood — the  heart's  blood  uv  every  rebel  in  Kaintuck  ! 

"  The  next  day  the  darky  buried  har.  I  couldn't  be  thar. 
They  wus  huntin'  me  like  a  wild  beast.  For  more'n  a  week 
me  an'  my  sick  wife  lay  out  in  the  woods ;  but  we're  yere 
now,  an'  all  I  ax  is  ter  sell  my  mars,  an'  git  my  'ooman  ter  a 
safe  place,  an'  then  I'll  guv  'em — whot  they's  guv'n  me  I" 

From  various  sources  I  afterward  received  confirmation  of 
the  native's  story ;  but  it  needed  none ;  for  in  the  fierce  passion 
which  blazed  in  his  eyes,  and  lit  up  his  haggard  face,  there  was 
nothing  but  truth. 


CHAPTER    II. 


ON    THE    ROAD. 


The  next  morning  I  started  for  Nashville.  At  the  railway 
depot  I  was  again  reminded  that  I  might  be  entering  the  French 
or  Austrian  dominions.  At  every  turn  my  military  passport 
was  called  for.  I  offered  to  pay  my  fare,  and,  "  Please  show 
your  pass.  Sir,"  greeted  me  from  the  small  opening  in  the  ticket 
office.  I  tried  to  force  my  way  through  the  crowd  which 
blocked  the  inner  gateway  of  the  station-house,  and,  "Please 
show  your  pass.  Sir,"  arrested  my  footsteps.  I  applied  for  a 
check  to  my  trunk,  and,  "  Please  show  your  pass.  Sir,"  sounded 
from  the  lungs  of  the  luggage  department.  I  attempted  to  get 
upon  the  train,  and,  "  Please  show  your  pass.  Sir,"  was  echoed 
by  a  slim  gentleman  in  shoulder-straps  at  the  foot  of  the  plat- 
form ;  ^d,  iinally,  when  congratulating  myself  that  at  least 
one-fourth  of  my  perilous  passage  was  accomplished,  "  Please 
show  your  pass.  Sir,"  was  smilingly  repeated  by  a  young  man 
in  military  cap  and  citizen's  nether  garments,  who  had  halted 
abreast  of  me  in  the  aisle  of  the  car.  I  drew  it  forth  in 
despair. 

"  Will  this  never  end  ?"  I  exclaimed,  in  evident  ill-nature. 

"  Oh  yes,  Sir.  We'll  not  trouble  you  again — till  we  reach 
Nashville.     It  is  annoying,  Sir  ;  but  absolutely  necessary." 

The  car,  when  we -entered,  was  ah-eady  packed  with  a  general 


24:  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

assortment  of  Kentucky  jeans,  butternut  linseys,  regimental 
blues,  regulation  buttons,  and  shoulder  straps;  but  a  single, 
timid-looking  woman  in  the  corner,  and  a  small  sprinkling  of 
civilians  among  the  soldiery,  told  plainly  that  none  of  our  fel- 
low-travellers were  leaving  home  on  a  pleasure  excursion. 

Near  the  forward  door  were  a  number  of  citizens,  who, 
politely  displacing  some  pieces  of  luggage,  invited  the  Colonel 
and  myself  to  squeeze  ourselves  into  seats  by  the  side  of  two 
fat  men  in  secession  gray,  who  turned  out  to  be  planters  from 
"Western  Tennessee.  They  were  of  a  party  of  neighbors,  who 
had  been  to  Louisville  together,  and  were  then  returning  to 
their  homes. 

As  the  train  moved  off  from  the  station,  one  of  them  said  to  me : 

"You're  from  the  North,  Sir?" 

"Yes,  Sir." 

"  Things  are  rather  disturbed  with  ye  jest  now — aren't  they? 
That  Vallandigham  affair  is  creating  some  trouble  ?" 

"  Not  much.  Sir — the  best  ale  will  foam ;  it  is  only  a  little 
froth  on  the  surface." 

"  It  seems  to  me  it's  more  than  froth,"  said  my  right-hand 
neighbor.  "  T  reckon  your  people  are  about  tired  of  the  war. 
If  the  Democrats  were  in  power,  they'd  stop  it." 

"  How  would  they  stop  it  ?" 

"  By  letting  the  South  go.  I'm  a  Union  man,  Sir,  but  I've 
had  enough  of  the  war — I  want  peace.  You  people  at  the 
North  know  nothing  about  it.  We're  robbed  by  both  sides ; 
we  can't  stir  out  of  our  houses  in  safety;  I  never  wake  in  the 
morning  but  I  fear  the  day  will  be  my  last." 

"  It  is  a  sad  state  of  things,  no  doubt ;  but  I  fear  it  will  con- 
tinue till  the  South  submits." 


ON   THE   KOAD.  25 

"Then  it  will  last  forever,"  exclaimed  another  planter,  who 
sat  facing  me.  "The  South  will  never  submit,  Sir!  It  will 
never  come  back  !     Every  Southern  man  will  die  first" 

"Allow  me  to  ask  if  you're  not  a  slaveholder?''  said  the  Col- 
onel, leaning  forward,  and  smilingly  addressing  the  last  speaker. 

"  Yes,  Sir  ;   I  own  some  twenty  negroes." 

"  I  thought  so.  I  never  heard  a  man  with  less  than  that 
number  express  such  sentiments." 

"  But  I  own  more,  and  I'm  not  of  that  opinion,"  said  the 
quiet  gentleman  beside  the  Colonel.  "  I  would  be  glad  to  see 
the  South  back." 

"  You're  not  a  native,  Sir." 

"  No,  Sir  ;  but  I've  done  business  here  for  thirty  years.  My 
friend,  the  Doctor  here,"  pointing  to  another  gentleman,  sitting 
opposite  to  me,  "  is  a  native,  and  a  slaveholder,  and  as  rabid 
on  the  Union  as  I  am." 

"  And  how  many  slaves  have  you,  Doctor,"  asked  the  Colonel, 
with  another  of  his  pleasant  smiles. 

"  Only  two  quarters  of  one.  Sir,  an  old  man  and  a  woman, 
who  were  playmates  of  my  mother,"  answered  the  medical  man. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  quietly. 

"  Come  gentlemen,"  I  exclaimed,  laughing,  "  as  the  Colonel 
thinks  the  number  of  darkies  a  man  owns  a  sort  of  political 
barometer,  suppose  we  take  a  census  at  once." 

My  suggestion  was  received  good-naturedly,  and  in  five  min- 
utes I  had  the  statistics.  The  corpulent  planter,  who  expected 
each  day  would  be  his  last,  had  seventy  odd ;  the  Northern 
born  merchant  liad  twenty-seven  ;  the  doctor,  two,  and  the 
others,  respectively,  one  hundred  and  nine,  sixty-two,  twenty- 
four,  and  twenty-one  ;  the  latter  number  representing  the  inter- 


26  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

est  the  belligerent  planter  had  in  the  peculiar  institution.  A 
half-hour's  desultory  conversation  followed,  and  during  it  each 
one,  except  my  right-hand  neighbor,  and  the  "  No  submission" 
man,  expressed  a  willingness  to  sacrifice  his  chattels  to  save  the 
Union. 

"  Ah,  Colonel,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  learned  the  sentiments  of 
the  last  of  the  party,  "you  are  floored — your  theory  won't 
stand  fire." 

"  Perhaps  it  won't,"  he  replied,  dryly. 

More  extended  obsen-ation  subsequently  convinced  me  that 
his  yiews  are  fully  supported  by  general  facts. 

As  the  planter  of  secession  proclivities  was  rather  warmly 
combating  my  views  on  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  a  sin- 
gularly self-possessed,  gentlemanly-looking  man,  of  about  fifty, 
approached  us,  and  leaning  against  the  arm  of  the  opposite  seat, 
accosted  me  as  follows : 

"  And  when  the  South  is  subdued,  and  the  war  is  over,  what 
will  you  do  with  four  millions  of  emancipated  blacks  ?" 

"  Set  them  at  work,  and  pay  them." 

"  And  would  you,  a  white  man,  consent  to  live  where  every 
second  citizen  is  a  black,  and  your  political  and  social  equal  ?" 

"  Freedom  of  itself.  Sir,  will  not  make  the  black  my  equal. 
At  the  Xoi-th  he  is  not  politically  or  socially  on  a  par  with 
the  white,  and  there  he  has  had  fifty  years  of  freedom." 

"  But  your  black  is  inferior  to  ours.  The  negro  is  of  a  trop- 
ical race  ;  he  comes  to  pei-fection  only  under  a  warm  sun." 

"  If  that  be  true,  your  negroes  are  fit  for  freedom,  for  our 
blacks  are  as  orderly,  industrious,  and  quietly  disposed  as  any 
class  we  have." 

The  new-comer  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  Doctor,  turning 


ON    THE    ROAD.  ^i 

to  him,  said  :  "  Colonel,  you  consider  our  whites  superior  to  our 
blacks  ;  do  you^n'ot  ?" 
"Certainly  I  do." 

"  Then  give  the  blacks  freedom ;  subject  them  to  free  com- 
petition with  the  poor  whites,  and  you  11  soon  be  rid  of  them, 
for  they'll  die  out.  The  Indian  is  naturally  superior  to  the 
negro,  but  two  centuries  of  contact  with  the  white  man — the 
Indian  being /ree — has  reduced  the  race  from  sixteen  millions 
to  two  millions.  Set  the  black  free,  leave  him  to  himself,  and 
his  fate  will  be  the  same." 

"  Then  slavery  keeps  the  race  alive  among  us  ?" 
"  Of  course  it  docs ;  for,  while  the  black  labors  for  us,  we 
feed,  and  clothe,  and  think  for  him ;  and,  besides — and  this  is 
the  principal  reason — we  are  constantly  infusing  fresh  white 
blood  into  his  veins.  That  would  not  be  if  he  were  free,  for 
the  black  does  not  seek  the  white,  but  the  white  the  black." 

"  You  have  stated  the  strongest  argument  for  Slavery  that  1 
ever  heard.  You  say  it  will  save  the  black,  and  yet,  while  you 
admit  that  freedom  would  destroy  him,  you  would  set  him  free  !" 
"  I  would — to  save  the  whites.  The  social  and  political  cor- 
ruption which  absolute  control  of  him  has  bred  among  us,  is 
destroying  us.  It  has  produced  the  present  state  of  things,  and 
God  is  using  this  w^ar — the  fruit  of  our  corruption — to  purify 
us.  He  has  written  on  the  wall — any  man  can  read  it — "  Slav- 
ery is  doomed !" 

"/cannot  read  it,  and  I  do  not  believe  a  good  and  just  God 
ever  decrees  the  destruction  of  his  creatures." 

"  Has  he  not  destroyed  other  races  ?  He  works  by  general 
laws,  and  one  of  the  plainest  of  His  laws  is,  that  the  weak  shall 
give  way  to  the  strong,  the  inferior  race  to  the  superior.     There 


28  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEK. 

is  no  hardship  in  this.  Every  man  submits  cheerfully  to  it — 
the  old  give  up  their  places  to  the  young — the  father  dies,  and 
the  son  succeeds  him,  and  nobody  grumbles.  "We  have  ob- 
structed the  operation  of  this  law  on  the  black  race,  and  now, 
in  tears  and  blood,  we  are  paying  the  penalty." 

"  You  bookish  men  can  spin  fine  theories,  but  we  have  to  deal 
with  facts,  and  hard  facts  at  that.'' 

"  I  have  formed  my  theory  on  fiicts,  Colonel,  hard  and  black 
facts,  too,"  replied  the  Doctor,  laughing. 

"  But  you  never  loved  the  slaves — never  had  them  love  you, 
as  mine  love  me.  When  Grant's  army  was  at  Memphis  I  told 
them  they  would  be  free  if  they  went  to  it,  and  not  one  of  them 
left  me." 

"  That  only  proves,  what  everybody  knows,  that  you  are  a 
kind  master  ;  and  that  your  negroes  would  work  cheerfully  for 
you,  if  they  were  free." 

''  Well,  there's  no  use  talking  to  you ;  you're  an  incorrigible 
Abolitionist;  but  come,  Squire,"  addressing  my  right  hand 
neighbor,  "  exchange  seats  with  me.  I  want  to  talk  with  this 
Northern  gentleman,  and  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer."  The 
cars  were  jolting  considerably,  and  his  position  was  not  an  easy 
one.  The  fat  planter  rose,  and  the  other  seated  himself  beside 
me.     As  he  did  so,  I  said  to  him : 

"  I  never  discuss  slavery.  Sir  ;  it's  a  waste  of  words." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  discuss  it,  Sir ;  I  want  to  ask  you  the  real 
state  of  public  feeling  at  the  Xorth.     Where  do  you  live,  Sir?" 

This  was  spoken  in  a  tone  which  showed  he  was  accustomed 
to  a  good  deal  more  deference  than  is  yielded  to  the  ordinary 
run  of  planters.  I  quietly  gave  my  name  and  residence,  and 
asked  him  for  his. 


ON   TUE   KOAD.  29 

"George  W.    II ,  of  H Springs,  near    Clarksville, 

Tennessee.'" 

"Your  name  is  familiar  to  me,  Sir; 'I  formerly  knew  General 

II ,    of    South    Carolina— lie    Avliose    son    commands  the 

II Legion." 

"  He  was  a  near  kinsman  of  mine.  We're  all  of  the  old  Vir- 
ginia family." 

He  then  went  on  to  ask  me  a  multitude  of  questions  about 
the  condition  of  things  at  the  North.  I  answered  frankly,  and 
he  listened  attenti\'ely,  but  made  no  comment  when  I  expressed 
the  opinion  that  the  mass  of  our  people  would  never  consent  to 
the  re-establishment  of  slavery. 

*  *  *  *  *  .  *  * 

We  were  entering  a  beautiful  region,  where  the  thick  grass 
Avas  waving  in  the  meadows,  the  early  flowers  were  blooming  by 
the  road  sides,  and  the  spring  birds  were  singing  in  the  great 
old  trees ;  but  where  the  rich,  red  soil  lay,  unturned  by  the 
plough,  the  stalks  of  the  Autumn  corn  stood  rotting  on  the 
cround,  and  ruin  and  desolation  stared  at  us  from  every  thing. 
Broken  fences,  wasted  fields,  deserted  plantations,  dismantled 
dwellings,  and  now  and  then,  a  burned  woods,  or  a  charred 
chimney,  standing  a  lonely  sentinel  over  a  weedy  garden,  or  amid 
a  blackened  grove,  told  that  the  whirlwind  of  war  had  passed 
that  way,  and  left  only  ravage  and  devastation  in  its  path.  A 
ragged  woman,  looking  out  from  a  wretched  hovel ;  a  solitary 
man,  lino-ering  around  a  heap  of  ashes  and  crumbling  bi-icks  that 
might  once  have  been  his  home,  or  a  group  of  lialt-clad  negro 
children,  gambolling  on  the  porch,  or  lolling  lazily  on  the  lawn 
of  some  deserted  homestead,  that  still  looked  down  in  faded 
grandeur  on  the  ruin  around  it,  were  the  only  indications  of 


30  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

human  existence,  and  the  only  remnants  of  a  once  peaceful  and 
happy  population.  It  was  one  of  the  most  lovely  regions  of 
the  earth,  naked,  but  beautiful  even  in  its  nakedness.  I  called 
the  attention  of  my  new  acquaintance  to  its  appearance,  and  he 
remarked :  "  No  portion  of  this  wide  country  has  so  fine  a  cli- 
mate, or  so  rich  and  fertile  a  soil.  Before  we  reached  Elizabeth- 
town,  we  passed  through  what  is  called  the  '  bed  of  the  Ohio' — 
a  white  clay  region,  heavily  timbered,  but  deficient  in  iron  and 
lime,  and  devoted  mainly  to  grazing.  Now,  we  are  ascending 
an  elevated  plateau  of  red  clay,  rich  in  everything  except  ammo- 
nia, and  producing,  almost  spontaneously,  enormous  crops  of 
wheat,  rye,  corn,  hemp,  blue  grass,  and  tobacco.  At  Bowling 
Green  this  plateau  is  broken  by  irregular  ridges  that  spring  out 
from  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  and  sink  into  the  lower 
lands  bordering  the  Mississippi.  They  give  a  more  beautiful 
diversity  to  the  surface,  but  the  character  of  the  soil  continues 
the  same,  as,  indeed,  it  does  over  nearly  the  whole  of  this  State 
(Kentucky)  and  Tennessee.  Anywhere  in  this  region  the  sub- 
soil, turned  up  by  the  plough,  and  exposed  for  a  short  time  to 
the  action  of  the  air,  becomes  a  manure  almost  as  valuable  as 
guano.  These  two  States,  Sir,  were  meant  by  nature  to  be  the 
garden  of  this  continent.  Adam  when  he  first  woke  in  Eden, 
did  not  look  on  a  more  beautiful  landscape,  or  a  more  luxuriant 
vegetation,  than  is  everywhere  spread  around  you;  but  now 
— what  has  war  done !  A  curse  has  fallen  on  these  once  happy 
homes — the  'abomination  of  desolation'  sits  in  these  pleasant 
places." 

"  But  the  day  will  soon  come.  Sir,  when  free  labor,  free 
schools,  and  free  men  will  people  this  region,  and  make  it  in 
reality,  the  paradise  which  God  designed  it  should  be." 


ON   THE    ROAD.  31 

"  We  cannot  foresee  the  end,  Sir,  but  my  heart  sickens  when 
I  think  of  what  it  may  be — these  old  homesteads  dismantled, 
these  rich  plantations  cut  into  little  plats  of  a  half  dozen  acres, 
and  divided  among  the  negroes,  or  squatted  on  by  a  vulgar  herd 
of  Irish  and  Germans.  I  hope  I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  Sir ; 
but  let  even  that  come  rather  than  disunion  and  the  perpetual 
war  that  would  follow." 

"  And  are  you  a  Union  man,  Sir !"  I  exclaimed  in  pleased 
surprise.  "  I  feared  from  what  you  said  of  slavery,  that  you 
were  not." 

"  Union,  sir  !  my  Unionism  has  been  tried  ;  it  has  stood  the 
test — every  test  but  death ;  and  I  am  ready  to  meet  that  for  it. 
I  believe  in  slavery  ;  I  think  it  the  normal  condition  of  the 
black  race ;  I  know  my  negroes  are  happier  than  they  would 
be  in  freedom  ;  and — I  love  them,  sir.  But  I  love  my  children 
better.  I  do  not  want  to  leave  them  a  heritage  of  endless  war ; 
and  therefore,  I  am  willing  to  abolish  slavery,  if  the  Union  can- 
not be  saved  without  it." 

"  You  must  have  suffered  greatly,  sir,  living  as  you  do,  in  a 
section  where  the  secession  element  is  so  strong." 

*'  I  have.  .  My  plantation  has  been  sacked,  my  life  has  been 
threatened — every  relative  I  have  in  the  world  has  turned  against 
me.  A  committee  waited  on  me,  just  before  the  June  (1861) 
election,  and  told  me  that  fifty  ropes  were  ready  to  hang  me  if 
I  did  not  cease  my  Union  talk,  and  vote  the  separation  ticket. 
With  two  of  my  negroes,  armed  to  the  teeth,  I  went  to  the 
polls,  and  defied  them.  I  voted  '  No  Separation.'  Then  they 
dragged  me  and  Judge  Catron  before  the  Military  Commission 
at  Nashville.  They  questioned  us,  and  ordered  us  to  leave  the 
State.     The  Judge  consented,  but  I  charged  them  with  sending 


32  DOWN   m   TENNESSEE. 

US  away  because  they  had  changed,  while  we  had  not,  and  I 
told  them  to  their  faces  that  I  would  not  go — that  I  would  die 
first.  One  of  hiy  near  kinsman  was  on  the  Commission,  and  I 
accused  him  of  being  recreant  to  every  principle  of  our  ancestors. 
He  only  answered,  *  I'll  not  argue  that  question  with  you.  We 
may  be  wrong,  but  w^e're  embarked  in  this  thing ;  our  lives  are 
at  stake,  and  self-preservation,  which  makes  a  man  sacrifice  his 
dearest  friend  to  save  himself,  impels  us  to  go  on.  We  cannot 
turn  back.'  It  is  that  feeling  which  holds  the  leaders  together. 
After  that,  my  wife  entreated  me,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it, 
I  was  less  outspoken.  But  I  was  a  marked  man  ;  they  annoyed 
me  and  plundered  me  in  every  way.  At  one  time  they  quartered 
a  whole  regiment  upon  me.  I  went  out  and  told  them  :  '  You 
are  my  neighbors  ;  I  love  you,  and  would  not  kill  you,  but  I  curse 
you.  I  curse  you  for  the  ruin  you  are  bringing  on  your  country.' 
God  heard  me,  Sir,  and  that  curse  rested  on  them.  Out  of  the 
fifteen  hundred  that  went  to  Richmond,  only  two  hundred  were 
left  when  Grant  took  Memphis !  The  rest  had  answered  the 
muster-roll  in  eternity  !  Then  every  man  felt  justified  in  taking 
my  life.  I  walked  every  day  arm-in-arm  with  death.  I  was 
waylaid,  shot  at,  my  well  was  poisoned.  How  I  escaped,  the 
Providence  that  guarded  me  only  knows.  When  the  soldiers 
left,  society  became  reduced  to  a  state  of  anarchy — a  struggle 
for  self-preservation.  Brothers  turned  against  brothers,  parents 
against  children,  children  against  parents.  No  man  was  safe. 
Even  my  friend  Shackelford,  law  partner  of  Gustavus  A.  Henry, 
member  of  the  Confederate  Senate,  was  threatened  with  death. 
At  the  outset  he  had  gone  with  the  current,  and  his  only  son 
had  volunteered ;  but  when  he  saw  the  ruin  which  Secession 
was  bringing  on  his  section,  he  applied  to  Henry  for  the  young 


ON    THE    KOAD,  33 

man's  release.  An  order  was  at  once  issued  for  his  own  arrest, 
and  be  only  escaped  by  fleeing  tbe  State.  Xo  words  can  pic- 
ture to  you,  Sir,  the  state  of  tbings  tbat  existed.  All  that  Dante 
and  Milton  have  told  us  of  hell  falls  short  of  what  we  expe- 
rienced." 

'"  And  through  all  this  you  stood  true  to  the  Union  !  I 
honor  you.  Sir;  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul,  I  honor  you." 

"You  need  not,  for  I  knew  their  plans.  I  knew  that  all 
their  talk  about  the  extension  and  perpetuation  of  slavery  is 
mere  sham,  to  cover  their  real  designs,  which  are  to  subvert  re- 
publican institutions,  and  found  a  bastard  monarch^/  on  the 
ruins  of  their  country  !  I  loved  slavery,  Sir.  I  love  it  still ; 
but  even  to  save  it  I  could  not  aid  in  ovcrtlirowing  the  institu- 
tions founded  by  my  fathers.  I  could  not  lift  my  puny  arm  in 
opposition  to  the  manifest  designs  of  God,  which  a^e  that  all 
men  shall  h^free  and  equal.^^ 

I  did  not  ask  him  why  the  blacks  had  been  overlooked  in 
the  designs  of  Deity;  I  merely  remarked:  "And  are  you  sat- 
isfied that  such  are  the  intentions  of  the  rebel  leaders  ?  I  know 
that  Spratt,  and  other  Southern  theorists,  advocate  monarchy  as 
the  only  government  compatible  with  slavery ;  but  I  have  not 
supposed  your  practical  statesmen  had  adopted  such  views." 

"  They  have.  Those  ideas  are  the  main-spring  of  the  Rebel- 
lion. But  for  them  it  would  never  have  been  undertaken.  I 
Jcnoiv  it.  The  whole  scheme  was  opened  to  me.  If  it  had  not 
been  I  should  have  gone  with  the  current.  I  could  not  other- 
wise have  stemmed  it.  The  Enghsh  and  French  governments 
know  it,  and  that  is  the  reason  the  rebels  have  so  much  sympa- 
thy from  them.  They  have  kept  the  design  carefully  out  of 
sight ;  only  the  ringleaders  have  been   in  the  secret,  for  they 


34  DOWN   IN    TENNESSEE. 

knew  that  if  the  masses  discovered  it  before  they  had  them 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  military  despotism,  the  whole  jig  was 
up." 

lie  paused,  for  just  then  the  engine- whistle  sounded  shrilly 
through  the  trees,  the  train  broke  up,  every  man  in  the  car 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  a  dozen  voices  cried  out : 

"  The  guerillas  are  on  us  !'' 

"  Are  you  armed,  Sir  ?"  said  my  new  acquaintance  to  me, 
as  coolly  as  if  we  were  at  his  dinner-table. 

"  No,  Sir,  I  am  not." 

"  Take  this  ;  it  may  be  useful." 

Cocking  the  revolver,  and  giving  one  thought  to  those  I  had 
left  at  home,  I  seated  myself,  and  breathlessly-  awaited  the  ex- 
pected assault. 


.     CHAPTER    III. 

GUERILLAS. 

As  the  train  came  to  a  halt,  the  Doctor,  who  had  been  en- 
joying a  quiet  nap,  opened  his  eyes,  and  asked  : 

"What's  to  pay?" 

"  Reckon  the  Bushwhackers  are  on  us !" 

"  That  can't  be,  this  side  of  Bowling  Green— some  one  had 
better  reconnoitre,"  and  rising  from  his  seat,  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  pistol  about  as  large  as  a  boy's  pop-gun,  and  strode 
toward  the  doorway." 

"  For  God's  sake.  Doctor,  don't  go  there  !  Keep  inside  !"  ex- 
claimed half  a  dozen  voices. 

Not  heeding  the  warnings,  the  medical  gentleman  stepped 
upon  the  platform,  saying,  "Where's  the  guard?  Well,  these 
fellows  are  never  where  they  should  be." 

The  single  soldier  who  had  been  stationed  before  the  door, 
had  suddenly  disappeared.  Naturally  objecting  to  standing  as 
a  target  for  fifty  rebel  rifles,  he  had  retreated  into  the  forward 
car.  The  Doctor,  then  glancing  cautiously  around,  and  ap- 
parently seeing  nothing  to  satisfy  his  curiosity,  made  a  sudden 
spring  for  a  huge  tree  which  grew  a  short  distance  from  the 
track.  He  alighted  within  a.  few  feet  of  it,  and  by  the  move- 
ment secured  two  breastworks ;  the  tree  in  his  front  and  the 
car  in  his  rear. 


36  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  He  jumps  like  a  wild  cat,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  "  but 
look  at  our  neighbors  here  !     Ha  !  ha !" 

Turning  about,  I  beheld  nearly  all  of  the  citizens  crouched 
on  the  floor,  beneath  the  windows,  and  not  a  few  of  the  oflBcers 
with  arms  (and  legs)  coucliant. 

"  I  say,  Squire,"  said  tiie  Colonel,  laughing,  " '  The  wicked 
flee  when  no  man  pursuetli.'  The  devils  would  liav^  been  on 
us  before  now  if  they  were  coming." 

"  The  wise  man  foreseeth  the  evil  and  hideth  himself — the 
fool  holdeth  up  his  head  and  getteth  hit,"  respgnded  the  Squire, 
with  a  ludicrous  eflbrt  at  merriment. 

"  That  isn't  in  my  version.  But,  Doctor,  what's  the  deten- 
tion ?"  to  the  latter,  who  that  moment  re-entered. 

"  Two  or  three  rails  displaced — that's  all.  Some  scoundrel 
meant  to  throw  us  ofl"  the  track." 

I  breathed  more  freely ;  for,  if  the  truth  must  be^  told,  my 
respiratory  apparatus  had  not  performed  its  usual  functions 
during  the  preceding  occurrences.  My  whole  being  had  been 
absorbed  in  two  senses — sio-ht  and  hearinoj.  With  mv  eves 
ranging  intently  around,  and  my  ears  strained  to  catch  the 
lightest  outside  sound,  I  had  made  those  organs  do  the  work  of 
at  least  five  days  in  those  five  minutes.  Even  a  brave  man — 
and  bravery  is  not  essential  to  one  of  my  profession — is  shaken 
when  confrontirjof  an  unseen  danofer ;  and  how  the  Colonel  and 
the  Doctor  maintained  such  perfect  coolness  I  could  not  imagine. 
I  said  as  much  to  them,  when,  at  the  end  of  a  half-hour,  we  re- 
sumed our  seats,  and  the  train  got  again  under  way. 

*'  Courage,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "  like  almost  every  thing  else, 
is  a  thing  of  habit.  A  man  who  has  for  two  years  daily  ex- 
pected every  bush  would  give  him  a  bullet,  gets  indifferent  to 


GUERILLAS.  37 

danger ;  but,  after  all,  I  had  rather  have  death  come  at  me  face 
to  face,  than  spring  on  nie  suddenly  i'vom  behind  a  rail  fence." 

"It  is  barbarous — this  guerilla  system,"  I  remarked,  again 
dovetailing  my  legs  within  the  Doctor's. 

"  It's  more  than  that — it's  hellish,"  he  replied  ;  "  Jeff.  Davis 
should  be  hung  for  inaugurating  it." 

"  If  you  imagine,"  said  the  Colonel,  "all  the  thieves  and  cut- 
throats of  New  York  let  loose  upon  the  city,  with  unlimited 
license  to  kill,  burn,  and  destroy,  you  will  have  a  faint  idea  of 
what  it  is.  The  lowest  dregs  of  society,  our  gamblers,  horse- 
thieves,  and  criminals,  make  up  these  bands.  Now  and  then  a 
respectable  man,  too  cowardly  to  go  into  the  regular  army,  joins 
them  ;  but  he  soon  becomes  as  bad  as  the  rest.  They  submit 
to  no  restraint,  but  range  the  country,  plundering  and  murder- 
ing friend  and  foe.  If  a  worthless  fellow  has  a  grudge  against 
a  neighbor,  he  joins  them,  denounces  his  enemy  as  a  Union 
man,  and  stealing  on  him  at  night,  either  shoots  him  down  be- 
fore his  wife  and  children,  or  burns  his  house  over  his  head. 
They  spare  neither  sex  nor  age.  Lone  women  are  outraged, 
old  men  are  murdered  by  them.  I  paid  them  eleven  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  for  my  own  life  only  last  falL  Wherever 
they  go  terror  reigns  ;  and  more  than  one-half  of  this  State  and 
Tennessee  is  under  their  control.  In  fact,  their  raids  extend 
even  within  the  Union  lines.  Mounted  on  swift  horses,  they 
make  a  sudden  dash  on  a  picket-station,  or  a  railway  train,  and 
are  ten  miles  away  before  pursuit  can  be  commenced." 

"  And  the  Kinor  Devil  amonor  them  is  a  Yankee,"  said  the 
Doctor,  smiling. 

"  Is  that  true  ?" 

"  Yes — but  don't  be  offended.     I  know  you    export   your 


38  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

meanest  specimens  ;  and  that  our  people  have  some  traits  worse 
than  yours.  The  North  loves  gold — the  South  loves  power; 
and  the  love  of  power  is  infinitely  worse  than  the  love  of  gold. 
One  absorbs  a  man  in  self,  but  makes  him  orderly,  quiet,  and 
law-abiding ;  the  other  renders  him  restless,  turbulent,  and  im- 
patient of  control — ready  to  overturn  every  thing,  human  and 
divine,  that  stands  in  the  way  of  his  personal  ambition.  It 
led  Satan  to  rebel  in  Heaven,  and  it  made  our  leaders  rise 
against  the  best  Government  on  earth ;  and.  Sir,  we  cannot  end 
this  war  until  we  serve  them  as  the  Lord  served  the  devil — send 
them  to  h— 1 1" 

This  was  said  with  a  warmth  that,  in  one  of  the  Doctor  s  cool 
temperament,  surprised  me  ;  but  I  merely  remarked  : 

"  You  would  go  too  far.  Strip  them  of  their  negroes — their 
power  is  in  them — and  they  will  be  harmless.  Reduced  to 
earning  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brows,  they'll  find 
no  time  to  plot  revolutions." 

"You  are  mistaken.  Our  people  are  ignorant,  and  ac- 
customed to  being  led  by  them.  Seeing  them  impoverished, 
they'll  pity  them,  and  be  just  as  much  under  their  control  as 
now.  We  must  weed  the  whole  race  out  of  the  South.  I 
wouldn't  hang  them — they  are  too  many  for  that ;  but  I'd 
expatriate  every  one  of  them.  Until  that  is  done,  there'll 
be  no  lasting  peace." 

"  Well,  it  strikes  me  we'll  have  to  catch  the  birds  before  we 
cage  them." 

'*  And  going  on  as  we  are  going  now  we'll  never  catch  them," 
remarked  the  Colonel ;  "  I  sometimes  think  God  has  struck 
our  rulers  with  judicial  blindness  to  punish  the  nation  for  its 
sins.     Why,  Sir,  I  have  half  a  dozen  negro  boys  who  could 


GUERILLAS.  39 

manage  things  better  than  they  are  managed  at  Washington. 
Half-way  measures — always  acting  a  little  too  late — scattering 
our  forces  over  the  whole  continent,  when  we  should  concen- 
trate them  against  vital  points,  is  ruining  us ;  and  if  it  goes  on, 
will  make  the  South  independent." 

"  I  can  see  where  the  Administration  has  blundered ;  but  it 
is  easier  to  see  mistakes  than  to  suggest  remedies;  How  would 
you  suppress  the  Rebellion  ?" 

"  By  calling  out  a  million  of  men ;  and  coming  down  on  the 
South  like  an  avalanche.  That  would  end  the  war  in  ninety 
days.  Now,  with  six  hundred  thousand  on  the  outside  of  a 
circle,  we  are  trying  to  whip  four  hundred  thousand  on  the 
inside.  It  can  never  be  done.  The  rebels  can  so  quickly 
re-enforce  any  threatened  point,  that  they  will  always  be  nu- 
merically superior  where  a  battle  is  to  be  fought.  It  takes 
nearly  half  our  present  force  to  keep  up  our  communications. 
Rosecrans  here — our  best  General — has,  perhaps,  seventy-five 
thousand  men,  but  thirty  thousand  are  required  to  protect  his 
lines  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  he  is  kept  idle  because 
he  cannot  bring  into  the  field  as  many  men  as  Bragg." 

"  And  do  you  think  the  rebels  have  four  hundred  thousand  ?" 

"Every  man  of  them;  and  they  can  bring  out  another 
one  hundred  thousand,  besides  two  hundred  thousand  negroes." 

*'  And  dare  they  arm  the  negroes  ?" 

"  They  do  it  now.  The  first  company  raised  in  Memphis 
was  of  blacks.  When  they  are  driven  to  the  wall,  they'll  put 
a  musket  into  the  hands  of  every  negro  within  their  lines,  and 
make  him  fight.  My  own  opinion  is  that  the  slave  is  to  end 
this  war.  Each  side  will  use  him."  He'll  be  put  in  the  front 
ranks,  and   the   result  will  be   the  present  generation  will    be 


4:0  DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE. 

exterminated.     Tlius,  though  not  in  the  Doctor's  way,  may  be 
brought  about  the  fate  he  predicts  for  the  blacks." 

"God  speed  the  day!"  exclaimed  the  Doctor.  "You  see 
I'm  an  Abolitionist,  Sir,  but  not  one  of  the  Yankee  stripe." 

"  I  perceive  you're  not  a  negro  worshipper ;  but,  Colonel,  after 
the  North  has  crushed  out  this  immense  force,  how  can  it 
bring  the  Southern  people  into  a  cordial  reunion  with  it  ?" 

*'  They'll  come  into  it  of  themselves.  Nine-tenths  of  the 
rank  and  file  of  the  rebel  army  would  gladly  lay  down  their 
arm?,  and  go  peacefully  back  to  tlieii'  homes  to-day.  They 
have  been  misled  and  forced  into  this  thing ;  their  hearts  are  not, 
and  never  have  been,  in  it.  Only  the  leaders  are  irreconcilably 
in  earnest.  The  Rebellion  is  merely  a  shell.  We  have  but  to 
crack  it,  to  find  it  hollow.  The  Southern  people  have  had 
false  ideas  of  the  Yankees — the  war  has  made  them  know 
them  better  and  like  them  better.  Our  masses  had  seen  none 
but  the  sneaking,  cowardly,  money-loving  kind.  One  of  my 
own  brothers-in-law  is  of  that  sort.  He  got  a  hundred  afid 
fifty  negroes  by  my  sister,  and  the  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  whip  one  of  them  to  death — an  old  house-servant,  who  had 
carried  his  wife  in  his  arms  when  she  was  a  child.  He  is  now 
a  rabid  Secessionist,  as  are  all  of  his  class." 

"  And  who  is  this  King  Devil  of  the  guerillas,  as  the  Doctor 
calls  him  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Woodward.  He  was  a  schoolmaster  at  Hop- 
kinsville,  Thurston  County,  Kentucky.  He  knew  all  the 
thieves  and  rascals  in  the  district,  and  at  the  breaking  out 
of  the  war  raised  a  regiment  of  fifteen  hundred  among  them 
and  oftered  it  to  Mr.  Davis.  Davis  refused  it,  because  the  men 
were  not   enlisted  for  three  vears.     Then  Woodward  divided 


GUERILLAS.  41 

his  force  into  squads  of  from  twenty  to  two  hundred,  and 
overran  the  State.  There  are  five  or  six  thousand  of  these 
devils  now,  in  this  State  and  Tennessee,  and  some  of  their 
atrocities  are  past  belief." 

"  I  have  heard  something  of  them,"  I  replied.  "  Parson 
Brownlow  introduced  me,  at  Cincinnati,  to  a  number  of  East 
Tennessee  refugees,  who  had  suffered  every  thing  but  death  at 
the  hands  of  these  men.  One  of- them,  a  farmer  by  the  name 
of  Pahner,  from  near  Pikeville,  in  Bledsoe  County,  was 
attacked  by  a  party  in  his  own  house  in  the  daytime.  He 
killed  two  of  them,  but  was  shot  in  four  places,  and  left 
for  dead.  Ilis  wife,  who  attempted  to  shiekl  him,  was 
also  woundedj  but  after  incredible  hardship  got  her  husband 
to  Lexinglon,  and  from  there  to  Cincinnati,  where  the  Parson 
secured  him  a  place  as  conductor  on  the  street  cars.  "When  I 
came  through  he  was  about  to  volunteer  under  Burnside,  beincr 
determined  to  have  vengeance  for  what  he  had  suffered. 
Another  one  was  Knights,  a  noted  scout,  who  has  served  under 
Rosecrans,  and  is  now  with  Burnside.  His  adventures  would 
make  a  history  as  interesting  and  strange  as  any  romance.  He 
has  crossed  the  mountains  as  guide  to  Union  men,  escaping  to 
join  our  army,  seventy-two  times!  and,  though  repeatedly 
shot,  has  been  taken  but  once.  Then  he  escaped  in  a  most 
wonderful  way. 

"  How  w^as  it  ?"  asked  the  Doctor. 

"He  was  captured  by  a  small  party  while  crossing  Walden's 
Ridge.  They  at  first  decided  to  hang  him  on  the  spot,  but 
finallv,  to  obtain  the  reward  offered  for  his  capture,  concluded 
to  deliver  him  to  the  Confederate  authorities  at  Knoxville.  He 
was  at  once  tried  and  sentenced  to  be  hung.     While  he  was  in 


42  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

jail  awaiting  execution,  Lis  daughter  was  admitted  to  see  liim. 
He  pretended  to  be  unable  to  sit  up,  in  consequence  of  a  wound 
received  when  he  was  taken,  and  of  course  the  daughter  had  to 
bend  down  to  hear  what  he  said.  In  these  circumstances  he 
managed,  though  a  sentinel  stood  directly  over  him,  to  whis- 
per :  .  *  Under  your  skirt — a  coil ! — to-morrow  !'  She  pro- 
cured a  '  coil,'  as  he  termed  it,  hid  it  under  her  clothes,  and 
the  next  day  went  again  to  the  jail.  The  sentinel  refused  to 
admit  her,  but  the  officer,  softened  by  her  entreaties  to  see  her 
father  for  the  last  time — he  was  to  be  hung  the  next  day — 
finally  granted  her  an  interview  of  five  minutes.  The  soldier 
stood  by  all  the  while,  as  before,  but  while  frantically  embracing 
her  father,  she  managed  to  convey  the  priceless  i;ppe  under  the 
bed-clothes.  The  night  happened  to  be  dark  and  stormy,  the 
sentinels  kept  under  shelter,  and  before  morning,  Knights,  with 
three  others,  let  himself  down  from  the  third  story  and  escaped, 
lie  is  past  sixty,  but  as  hale  and  vigorous  as  any  young  man 
you  ever  knew." 

"  I'll  never  speak  against  women's  hoops  again,"  exclaimed 
the  Doctor,    "  for  once  they've  done  the  country  ser\'ice." 

"  The  East  Tennesseeans  have  suffered  tembly,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "but  the  barbarities  practised  on  them  have  been 
committed  all  over  this  section.  Wherever  the  guerillas  have 
gone,  they  have  left  a  trail  of  burning  houses,  and  butchered 
men  and  women.  Some  of  them  are  such  monsters  of  crime 
that  one  is  tempted  to  believe  the  Devil  has  become  incarnate 
in  long  hair,  slouched  hat,  and  butternut  trowsers.  Over  here 
in  Clinton  County,  one  named  Champ  Ferguson  was  recently 
killed,  who,  I  suppose,  had  committed  more  murders  than  any 
man  in  the  Union.     Before  the  war  he  was  a  gambler,  thief, 


GUERILLAS.  43 

and  counterfeiter,  and  naturally  joined  the  Rebellion.  lie 
organized  a  small  baud,  and  for  more  than  a  year  committed 
unheard  of  atrocities  unchecked.  Reuben  B.  AVood,  an  aged 
citizen  of  Clinton  County,  had  greatly  befriended  him.  Fgr- 
guson  rode  up  to  Wood's  house  one  day  in  September,  1861, 
called  him  out,  and  coolly  told  him  he  was  going  to  kill  him. 
*  Oh.  no  I  Champ,  you'll  not  do  that !  I  never  done  you  any 
harm  T  exclaimed  the  old  man. 

"  '  But  you  toted  the  d — d  Lincoln  flag  at  Camp  Dick  Rob- 
inson.' 

"  '  Why,  Champ,'  said  Wood,  '  I  almost  raised  you.  I  held 
you.  on  my  knee  when  you  was  a  child.' 

"  'You're  a  d — d  Lincoltiite,'  said  the  monster,  and  shot 
him  dead. 

"  On  another  occasion  he  had  a  Union  man  by  the  name  of 
Spangler  lashed  to  a  tree,  and  beaten  to  death.  In  April, 
1862,  he  and  his  band  came  upon  a  party  of  neighbors  col- 
lected at  a  log  raising  in  Fentress  County.  He  shot  a  number 
of  them  as  they  were  attempting  to  escape,  and  took  the  rest 
prisoners.  Then  he  bade  his  men  hold  each  prisoner  by  the 
arms,  and  deliberately  ripped  open  their  bowels  with  a  knife ! 
A  man  by  the  name  of  Fragge  had  incurred  his  enmity.  He 
was  confined  to  his  bed,  dangerously  sick,  his  little  child  lying 
beside  him,  and  his  wife  sitting  near.  Ferguson  entered  the 
room  and  told  him  he  had  come  to  kill  him.  Fragge  pleaded 
for  life  ;  his  wife  entreated  the  ruffian  to  spare  her  husband, 
but  he  raised  his  pistol  and  gave  him  a  severe  wound.  Fragge 
again  entreated  for  life,  but  Ferguson  again  raised  his  pistol, 
and  while  the  sick  man  clasped  his  fiightened  child  to  his 
breast,  shot  him  dead  !     The  wife  supposing  both  husband  and 


44  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

child  killed,  ran  frantically  from  the  house.  Then  Fem-uson 
stole  the  dead  man's  clothes,  and  the  blanket  that  covered  his 
bed!" 

•'  Tell  me  no  more !  You  have  said  enough  to  convince 
me  that  all  the  passions  of  hell  are  Met  loose  in  this  war.'  " 

"  They  are.  Men  have  become  fiends.  They  thirst  for 
blood.  They  gloat  over  their  victims.  The  last  drop^  of 
human  feeling  has  gone  out  of  them.  Death  and  ruin  follow 
them    everywhere.     They  have    made   this    lovely  country   a 

HELL  !" 

We  soon  afterward  arrived  at  Memphis  Junction,  and  bid- 
ding me  a  kindly  "  good-by,"  and  urging  me  to  visit  them  if 
my  time  allowed,  the  Colonel  and  his  companions  left  the  car 
and  took  the  train  which  was  in  waiting  for  Clarksville. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    UNION    SCOUT. 

The  States  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  have  been  made  one 
vast  battle-ground  by  this  war.  Every  county  and  every 
townsliip  has  been  the  scene  of  some  fierce  strugojle,  or  the 
theatre  of  some  bloody  drama,  whose  memory  will  live  for 
generations.  Grass-grown  cross-roads,  where  rude  guide-posts 
point  ways  no  traveller  ever  went ;  sleepy  hamlets,  unknown  to 
the  census-taker  and  the  tax-gatherer,  where  the  spelling-book 
and  the  mail-bag  never  were  seen ;  lonely  log  meeting-houses, 
where  some  ignorant  pastor  doled  out  to  a  scanty  crowd  of 
more  ignorant  "  white  trash"  weekly  potions  of  "  wholesome 
admonition,"  and— the  country  newspaper;  have  become 
world-famous.  Distant  lands  have  heard  of  them;  distant 
times  will  speak  of  them,  and  romance  and  poetry  will  couple 
their  names  with  heroic  deeds,  and  make  them  holy  places  in 
our  nation's  history. 

At  every  station  on  the  Nashville  road  the  traveller  sees 
indications  of  the  fierceness  of  this  struggle,  and  evidences  of 
a  valor  worthy  of  the  most  heroic  ages.  At  Mumfordsville,  on 
a  little  mound  overlooking  the  Green  River,  is  a  low  earthwork 
encircled  by  a  shallow  ditch,  and  enclosing  less  than  an  acre  of 
ground.  There  Colonel  Wilder  and  a  small  band  of  raw 
Indianians  arrested  the  northward  march  of  Bragg's  army  for 
forty  hours ! 


46  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

"It  is  the  whole  of  Bragg's  force !  It  is  madness  to  resist! 
We  must  surrender!"  exclaimed  one  of  Wilder's  lieutenants. 

"I  know  we  must  surrender.  *But  we'll  do  it  when  ihey 
make  us,^^  replied  the  brave  commander. 

Five  thousand  rebel  muskets  belched  fire  upon  them  during 
six  hours,  but  crouching  behind  those  mud  walls  that  handful 
of  brave  men  sent  back'  a  storm  of  hail  that  mowed  down 
the  advancing  ranks  as  the  scythe  mows  down  the  summer  grass. 

"Surrender  at  once,  or  we'll  give  no  quarter,"  was  borne  to 
them  by  the  flag  of  truce. 

"  We  ask  none,"  was  the  sole  reply,  and  the  work  of  death 
went  on. 

Twelve  thousand  men,  in  ranks  six  deep,  their  bayonets 
gleaming  in  the  sun,  then  enveloped  that  little  hill,  and  again 
and  again,  within  eighty  feet  of  that  frail  breastwork,  pour- 
ed in  their  deadly  volleys,  but  at  each  discharge  clear  and  loud 
rang  out  the  words:  "  Aim  low,  boys.  Let  every  shot  tell !" 
and  broken  and  decimated  the  assailants  fell  back  to  their 
quarters. 

At  sunrise  of  the  third  day  another  flag  approached.  "  You 
are  brave  men.  We  would  spare  your  lives.  We  have  posted 
cannon  at  every  angle.  We  can  level  your  intrench ments  in 
half  an  hour !" 

"I  do  not  believe  it;  convince  me  of  it,  and  I'll  surrender." 

They  led  him  out.     He  saw  the  guns,  and  surrendered. 

"  If  he  had  held  out  another  half  hour  I  should  not  be 
here  to  tell  you  of  it,"  said  the  modest  young  corporal  who  told 
me  the  story. 

Into  a  stagnant  pool  at  the  left  of  the  fort  three  hundred 
and  fifty  mangled  rebels  were  thrown  at  nightfall.     Seven  hun- 


THE    UNION    SCOUT.  47 

dred  now  lie  buried  in  the  woods  hard  by.  How  great  a 
graveyard  for  so  small  a  town  ! 

But  I  cannot  particularize  all  that  I  saw,  where  at  every 
bridge  was  a  stockade,  and  on  every  hill  a  battle-field. 

Here  and  there  broken  cars  and  charred  rolling-gear  strewn 
along  the  track  showed  that  the  guerillas  had  been  recently  at 
work.  At  Bowling  Green,  in  the  bed  of  the  Big  Barren — a 
little  stream  which  flows  near  the  town — were  the  fragments 
of  a  train  that,  with  its  freight  of  mules,  had  been  burned 
on  the  bridge  only  three  weeks  before,  and  at  the  station  next 
south  of  Gallatin,  was  a  similar  wreck ;  but,  closing  my  eyes  on 
these  relics  of  an  almost  savage  warfare,  and  these  uncomforta- 
ble reminders  of  personal  danger,  I  perched  my  legs  on  the 
seat  just  vacated  by  the  iVbolition  philosopher,  and  soon  fell 
asleep. 

I  was  dreaming  of  home,  and  of  certain  flaxen-haired 
juveniles  who  are  accustomed  to  call  me  "  Mister  Papa,"  when 
a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  my  shoulder,  and  a  gruff  voice  said : 

"  Doan't  want  ter  'sturb  yer,  stranger,  but  thar  haint  nary 
nother  sittin'-place  in  the  whole  kear." 

I  drew  in  my  extremities,  and  he  seated  himself  before  me. 
He  was  a  spare,  muscular  man  of  about  forty,  a  little  above  the 
medium  height,  with  thick  sandy  hair  and  beard,  and  a  full,  clear, 
gray  eye.  There  was  nothing  about  him  to  attract  particular  at- 
tention except  his  clothing,  but  that  was  so  out  of  all  keeping 
with  the  place  and  the  occasion,  that  I  opened  my  eyes  to  their 
fullest  extent,  and  scanned  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  wore 
the  gray  uniform  of  a  Secession  ofl[icer,  and  in  the  breast  of 
his  coat,  right  over  his  heart,  was  a  round  hole,  scorched  at 
the  edges,  and  darkly  stained  with  blood  !     Over  his  shoulder 


48  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

was  slung  a  large  army  revolver,  and  at  his  side,  in  a  leathern 
sheath,  hung  a  weapon  that  seemed  a  sort  of  cross  between  a 
bowie-knife  and  a  butcher's  cleaver.  On  his  head,  surmounted 
by  a  black  plume,  was  a  moose-colored,  slouched  hat,  and  ftUling 
from  beneath  it,  and  tied  under  his  chin,  was  a  white  cotton 
handkerchief  stiffly  saturated  with  blood !  Nine  motley-clad 
natives,  all  heavily  armed,  had  entered  with  him  and  taken  the 
vacant  seats  around  me,  and  at  first  view  I  was  inclined  to  believe 
that  in  my  sleep  the  train  had  gone  over  to  the  enemy  and  left 
me  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines.  I  was,  however,  quickly  re- 
assured, for,  looking  about  I  discovered  the  Union  Guard  and 
my  fellow-travellers  all  in  their  previous  places,  and  as  uncon- 
cerned as  if  no  unusual  thing  had  happened.  Still,  it  seemed 
singular  that  no  officer  had  the  new  comer  in  charge ;  and  more 
singular  that  any  one  in  the  uniform  he  wore  should  be  allowed 
to  carry  arms  so  freely  about  him.  After  a  while,  having 
gleaned  all  the  knowledge  of  him  that  my  eyes  could  obtain,  I 
said  in  a  pleasant  tone  : 

"  Well,  my  friend,  you  appear  to  take  things  rather  coolly." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Sir !  I  orter.  I've  been  mighty  hard  put,  but  I 
reckon  I'm  good  fur  a  nother  pull  now." 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"  Fentress  County,  nigh  onter  Jimtown  (Jamestown).  I'm 
scoutin'  it  fur  Burn  side— runnin'  boys  inter  camp ;  but  these 
fellers  wanted  ter  jine  Gunnel  Brownlow — the  old  parson's 
son — down  ter  Triune.  We  put  plumb  fur  Nashville,  but  hed 
ter  turn  norard,  case  the  brush  down  thar  ar  thick  with  rebs. 
They'd  like  ter  a  hed  us. " 

"Oh,  then  you  wear  that  uniform  as  a  disguise  on  scouting 
expeditious  ?" 


THE  UNION  scoirr.  49 

"  No,  Sir  ;  I  never  bed  sech  a  rig  on  afore.  I  allers  shows 
the  true  flag,  an'  thar  haint  no  risk,  case,  ye  see,  the  whole 
deestrict  down  thar  ar  Union  folks,  an'  ary  one  on  'em  would 
house'n  me  ef  all  Buckner's  army  wus  at  my  heels.  But  this 
time  they  run  me  powerful,  close,  an'  I  hed  ter  show  the 
sccesh  rags." 

As  he  said  this  he  looked  down  on  his  clean,  unworn  suit  of 
coarse  gray,  with  ineffable  contempt. 

"  And  how  could  you  manage  to  live  with  such  a  hole  there?" 
I  asked,  pointing  to  the  bullet  rent  in  his  coat. 

"  Oh  !  I  warn't  inside  uv  'em  jest  then,  though  I  warrant  me 
he  war  a  likely  feller  thet  ^var.  I  ortent  ter  a  done  hit — but 
I  hed  ter.  This  war  he  ;"  and  taking  from  his  side  pocket  a 
small  miniature,  he  handed  it  to  me. 

It  was  a  plain  circlet  of  gold,  attached  to  a  piece  of  blue 
ribbon.  One  side  of  the  rim  was  slightly  clipped,  as  if  it  had 
been  grazed  by  the  passing  ball,  and  the  upper  portion  of  the 
ivory  was  darkly  stained  with  blood  ;  but  enough  of  it  was  un- 
obscured  to  show  me  the  features  of  a  young  man,  with  dark, 
flowing  hair,  and  a  full,  frank,  manly  face.  With  a  feeling  akin 
to  horror  I  was  handing  the  picture  back  to  the  scout,  when  in 
low,  stammering  tones  he  said  to  me  : — 

"  'Tether  side,  Sir !     Luk  at  'tother  side.'* 

I  turned  it  over,  and  saw  the  portrait  of  a  young  woman, 
scarcely  more  than  seventeen.  She  had  a  clear,^  transparent 
skin,  regular,  oval  features,  full,  swimming,  black  eyes,  and, 
what  must  have  bee^  dark,  wavy  brown  hair,  but  changed  then 
to  a  deep  auburn  by  the  red  stains  that  tinged  the  upper  part  of 
the  picture.  With  intense  loathing,  I  turaed  almost  fiercely  on 
the  scout,  and  exclaimed :  "  And  you  killed  that  man  ?" 
3 


50  DC>WN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

"Yes,  Sir,  God  forguv  me — I  done  hit.  But  I  couldn't  holp 
Lit.  He  lied  me  down — he'd  cut  me  thar,"  turning  up  his 
sleeve,  and  displaying  a  deep  wound  on  his  arm ;  "  an'  thar !" 
removing  the  bandage,  and  showing  a  long  gash  back  of  his 
ear.  "  His  arm  wus  riz  ter  strike  agin — in  another  minhit  he'd 
hev  cluv  my  brain.  I  seed  hit.  Sir,  an'  I  fired !  God  forguv 
me — I  fired !  I  wouldn't  a  done  hit  ef  I'd  a  knowd  thet,"  and 
he  looked  down  on  the  face  of  the  sweet  young  girl,  and  the 
moisture  came  into  his  eyes :  "  I'd  hev  shot  'im  somewhar  but 
yere — somewhar  but  yert  V  and  laying  his  hand  over  the  rent 
in  his  coat,  he  groaned  as  if  he  felt  the  wound.  With  that 
blood-stained  miniature  in  my  hand,  and  listening  to  the  broken 
words  of  that  ignorant  scout,  I  realized  the  horrible  barbarity 
of  war. 

After  a  pause  of  some  minutes  he  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  They  killed  one  on  our  boys,  Sir  ?" 

"  Did  they  !     How  was  it  ?" 

"  Wal  Sir,  ye  see  they  b'long  round  the  Big  Fork  in  Scott 
County ;  and  bein's  I  war  down  thar,  an'  they  know'd  I  war  a 
runnin'  recruits  over  the  mountins  ter  Burnside,  they  telled 
me  they  wanted  me  ter  holp  'em  git  'long  with  they  oung  Gun- 
nel. They'd  ruther  a  notion  ter  him — an'  he  ar  a  feller  thet 
haint  growd  everywhar — 'sides  all  the  folks  down  thar  swar  by 
the  old  Parson." 

"  Well,  they  ought  to,  for  he's  a  trump,"  I  remarked  good- 
humoredly,  to  set  the  native  more  at  his  ease. 

"  Ye  kin  bet  high  on  thet ;  he  haint  nothin'  else,"  he  replied, 
leaning  forward  and  regarding  me  with  a  pleased,  kindly  ex- 
pression. "  Every  un  down  my  way  used  ter  take  his  paper ; 
thet  an'  the  Bible  war  all  they  ever  seed,  an'  they  reckoned  one 


THE    UNION    SCOUT.  51 

war  'bont^so  good  as  'totlier.  Wall,  the  boys  thort  I  could  git 
»em  through — an'  bein's  it  made  no  odds  to  me  whar  they  jined, 
so  long  as  they  did  jine,  T  'greed  ter  dii  hit.  We  put  out  ten 
days,  yisterday— twelve  on  'em,  an'  me— an'  struck  plumb  fur 
Nashville.  We  lay  close  daytimes,  'case,  though  every  hous'n 
ar  Union,  the  kentry  is  swarmin'  with  Buckner's  men,  an'  we 
know'd  they'd  let  slide  on  us  jest  so  soon  as  they  could  draw  a 
bead.  We  got  'long  right  smart  till  we  fotched  the  Roaring 
River,  nigh  outer  Livingston.  We'd  'quired,  an'  hedu't  heerd 
uv  ary  rebs  bein'  round ;  so,  foolhardy  like,  thet  evenin'  we  tuk 
ter  the  road  'fore  hit  war  clar  dark.  We  hedu't  gone  more'n  a 
mile  till  we  come  slap  outer  'bout  eighty  Secesh  calvary.  We 
skedaddled  fur  the  timber,  powerful  sudden ;  but  they  war  over 
the  fence  an'  on  us,  'fore  we  got  well  under  cover.  'Bout  thirty 
on  'em  slid  thar  nags,  an'  come  at  us  in  the  brush.  I  seed 
twarn't  no  use  runnin ;  so  I  yelled  out :  *  Stand  yer  ground, 
boys,  an'  sell  yer  lives  jest  so  high  as  ye  kin  1'  Wall,  we  went 
at  hit  ter  close  quarters— hand  ter  hand,  an'  fut  ter  fut— an'  ye'd 
better  b'lieve  thar  war  some  tall  fightiu'  thar  far  'bout  ten 
minhits.  Our  boys  fit  like  fien's— thet  little  chunk  uv  a  feller 
thar,"  pointing  to  a  slim,  pale-faced  youth,  not  more  than 
seventeen,  "  laid  out  three  on 'em.  I'd  done  up  two  myself, 
when  the  Capt'n  come  onter  me— but,  I've  telled  ye  'bout  him  ;" 
and  drawing  a  long  breath,  he  put  #the  miniature  back  in  his 
pocket.     After  a  short  pause  he  continued : — 

"  When  they  seed  the  Capt'n  war  done  for,  they  fell  back  a 
piece— them  as  war  left  on  'em— ter  the  edge  uv  the  timber,  an'  ^ 
hollered  fur  'tothers  ter  come  on.      Thet  guv  us  time  ter  load 
up — we'd  fit  arter  the  fust  fire  wuth  knives — an'  we  blazed  inter 
'em.     Jest  as  wc  done  hit,  I  heer'd  some  more  calvary  comin' 


52  Dt)WN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

up  the  road,  an'  I  war  jest  tellin'  the  boys  we'd  hev  ter  make 
tracks,  when  the  new  fellers  sprung  the  fence,  an'  come  plumb 
at  the  Secesh  on  a  dead  run.  Thar  warn't  only  thirty  on  'em, 
yit  the  rebs  didn't  so  much  as  make  a  stand,  but  skedaddled  as 
ef  Old  Ptosey  himself  had  been  arter  'em." 

"And  who  were  the  new  comers?" 

"  Some  on  Tinker  Beaty's  men.  They'd  heerd  the  firin' nigh 
two  mile  off,  an'  come  up  suspicionin'  how  things  wus." 

"  But,  are  there  Union  bauds  there  ?  I  thought  East  Tennes- 
see was  overrun  with  rebel  troops." 

"  Wall,  hit  ar ;  but  thar's  a  small  chance  uv  Union  goorillas 
in  Fentress  and  Overton  county.  They  hide  in  the  mountins, 
an'  light  down  on  the  rebs,  now^  an'  then,  like  death  on  a  sick 
parson.  Tliar  is  places  in  them  deestricts  thet  a  hundred  men 
kin  hold  agin  ten  thousand.  They  know  'em  all,  case  they  wus 
raised  thar,  an'  they  know  every  bridle-path  through  the  woods, 
so  its  well  nigh  unpossible  ter  kotch  'em.  I  reckon  thar's  a 
hundred  on  'em,  all  mounted,  a\T  bein's  as  they  hain't  no  tents, 
nor  wagins,  nor  camp  fixin's  they  git  round  mighty  spry. 
Thar  scouts  is  allers  on  the  move,  an'  wharever  thar's  a  showin', 
they  pounce  down  on  the  rebs,  cuttin'  'em  ter  pieces.  Thet's 
the  how  they  git  powder  an'  provisions.  They  never  trouble 
peaceable  folk,  an'  haint  no  sort  o'  'spense  ter  Guverment ;  but 
they  does  a  heap  uv  damage  ter  the  Secesh." 

"  Well,  they  did  you  a  *  powerful'  good  turn." 

"  They  did  thet ;  but  we  lost  one  on  our  boys.  He  war  only 
sixteen — brother  ter  thet  feller  thar,"  pointing  to  a  young  man 
sitting  opposite.  "  They  hung  his  father,  an'  now — they's 
killed  him,"  and  he  drew  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Why  did  they  hang  his  father  ?" 


THE    UNION    SCOUT.  58 

"  "Wall,  ve  see,  tliey  kunscripted  liini — he  war  over  age,  but 
they  don't  mind  thet — an'  he  desarted,  nieanin'  ter  git  ter  the 
Union  Hnes.  They  kotched  him  in  the  woods,  an'  hung  him 
riglit  up  ter  a  tree." 

"  Was  only  one  of  your  men  hurt  ?" 

Yes,  two  on  'em  wus  wounded  too  bad  ter  come  wuth  us. 
The  calvary  toted  'em  off  ter  the  mountins,  an'  I  reckon  they'll 
jinc  'em  when  they  gits  round.  But  we  left  elevin  uv  the  rebs 
dead  on  the  ground." 

"  Did  your  men  kill  so  many  ?  The  cavalry  had  a  hand  in 
that,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  they  killed  two — thet's  all.  They  couldn't  git  at  'em, 
they  run  so.     We  done  the  rest." 

"You  must  have  fought  like  tigers.  How  many  were 
wounded  ?" 

"  Nary  one  ;  what  wan't  dead  the  boys  finished." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  your  meu  killed  the  wounded 
tifter  the  fight  /" 

"  I  reckon  they  did — some  four  on  'em." 

"  My  friend,  that's  nothing  but  murder.  I  had  hoped  the 
rebels  did  all  of  that  work." 

"Wall,  they  does— anuff  on  hit ;  an'  I  never  could  bring  my 
mind  ter  think  it  war  right  or  human :  but  I  s'pose  thet's  case 
I  never  hed  a  father  hung,  or  a  sister  ravig'd,  or  a  old  mother 
shot  down  in  bar  bed.  Them  things,  you  knows,  makes  a  dif- 
ference.'* 

"  And  have  any  of  your  men  suffered  in  such  ways  ?" 

"  In  sech  ways  ?  Thar  haint  one  on  'em  but  kin  tell  you 
things  'ud  turn  yer  blood  ter  ice.  D'ye  see  thet  feller  thar?" 
pointing  to  a  thin,  sallow  faced   man,  two   seats   in   our  rear. 


64  DO^VN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Xot  two  months  gone,  some  twenty  rebs  come  ter  his  house 
while  he  war  layin'  out  in  the  woods,  an'  toted  his  wife — as 
young  an'  purty  a  'oman  as  yer  own  sister — oflF  'bout  a  mile,  an' 
thar  tuk  thar  will  uv  her — all  on  'em  !  She  made  out  ter  crawl 
home,  but  it  killed  har.  He  warn't  wuth  har  when  she  died, 
an'  hit  wus  well  he  warn't,  fur  he'd  hev  gone  clean  crazy  ef  he 
hed  been.  He's  mor'n  half  thet  now — crazy  fur  blood  !  An' 
kin  ye  blame  him  ?  Kin  ye  'spect  a  man  thet's  hed  sech 
things  done  ter  him  ter  show  quarter  ?  'Taint  in  natur  ter  do 
hit.  All  these  boys  hes  hed  jest  sich,  an'  things  like  hit ;  an' 
they  go  in  ter  kill  or  be  kilt.  They  doan't  ax  no  marcy,  an'  they 
doan't  show  none.  Nigh  twenty  thousand  on  'em  is  in  Burn- 
side's  an'  old  Rosey's  army,  an'  ye  kin  ax  them  if  they  doan't 
fight  like  devils.  The  iron  has  entered  thar  souls,  Sir.  They 
feel  they's  doin'  God  sarvice — an'  they  is — when  they  does  fur  a 
secesh.  An'  when  this  war  ar  over — ef  it  ever  ar  over — thar'll 
be  sech  a  reckonin'  wuth  the  rebs  uv  East  Tennessee  as  creation 
never  kuow'd  on  afore.  Thar  won't  be  one  on  'em  left  this 
side  uv  hell !"  This  was  said  with  a  vehemence  that  startled 
me.  His  eyes  actually  blazed,  and  every  line  on  his  seamed 
face  quivered  with  passion.     To  change  the  subject,  I  asked : 

"  And  what  did  you  do  after  the  fight  ?" 

"  Not  knowin'  what  moight  happen,  we  swapped  does  with 
sech  uv  the  rebs  as  hed  gray  'uns,  an'  put  North — plumb  fur 
the  mountins.  Nio-h  outer  Meio-sville  we  come  onter  a  Union 
man,  who  holped  us  ter  cut  some  timber,  an'  make  a  raft — fur 
we  'lowed  the  Secesh  would  track  us  wuth  houns,  an'  ter  throw 
'em  off  the  scent  we  hed  ter  take  ter  the  water.  We  got  inter 
Obey's  Fork,  an'  floated  down  ter  the  Cumberland ;  hidin'  in 
the  bushes  in  the  day  time,  an'  floatin'  at  night.     We  got  nigh 


THE   UNION    SCOUT.  65 

onter  Carthago,  an'  knowin'  the  river  wan't  safe  no  longer,  we 
left  hit  an'  struck  'cross  fur  the  railroad.  Thet  kentry  ar  full 
uv  rebs,  but  hevin'  the  Secesh  does  on,  we  made  out  ter  git 
'nuft'  ter  eat  till  we  got  yere." 

We  had  crossed  the  Cumberland,  and  were  then  approaching 
Nashville.  Its  beautiful  suburbs,  though  covered  with  the  early 
foliage  of- spring,  wore  a  most  desolate  appearance.  Magnifi- 
cent villas  were  heaps  of  ruins ;  splendid  plantations  and 
charming  gardens  were  overrun  with  weeds.  How  fearfully 
have  their  owners  expiated  the  mad  crim"e  or  Secession  !  How 
have  they  sown  the  wind  and  reaped  the  whirlwind ! 

At  the  station-house  we  ran  the  gauntlet  of  another  set  of 
military  officials.  Passes  were  examined  and  luggage  was 
looked  into,  but  after  a  while  the  Colonel  and  I  squeezed  out 
of  the  crowd,  and  into  an  omnibus.  "I  go  to  the  'Com- 
mercial,' "  he  said  to  me.  "  I've  tried  the  '  St.  Cloud,'  and  I'm 
disposed  to  see  if  the  other  is  quite  so  bad." 

"  Well,  I'll  go  with  you.  I'm  familiar  with  Southern  hotels, 
and  don't  expect  much." 

If  I  had  expected  much,  I  should  have  been  disappointed ; 
for  truth  compels  me  to  say — and  I've  been  somewhat  of  a 
traveller  and  seen  strange  lodging-places  in  my  time — that  the 
*'  Commercial  Hotel"  of  Nashville  is  the  filthiest,  bufjoriest 
house,  public  or  private,  I  ever  passed  a  night  in.  In  any 
Northern  town  it  would  be  indicted  as  a  nuisance,  calculated  to 
breed  pestilence  and  bad  morals  among  the  people.  Biscuit, 
heavy  as  1  ead  ;  steak,  tough  as  leather  ;  coffee,  thick  as  mud  ; 
and  corn-cake  so  saturated  with  smoke  that  all  its  original  flavor 
had  departed,  was  its  unvarying  bill  of  fare.  No,  not  unvary- 
ing, for  a  small  fee  to  the  ebony  waiter  did  procure  me  some 


56  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

strawberries,  and  for  them  I  blessed  him,  and  of  them  I  made 
my  supper. 

Being  fatigued  with  ray  journey,  I  asked,  early  in  the  even- 
ing, to   be  shown  to  a  room,  and  a  servant  conducted  me  to  a 
dingy  apartment  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  where  I  had  full  ad- 
vantage of  all  the  fumes  and  perfumes  of  the   kitchen.      Its 
dimensions  were  about  eight  feet  by  twelve,  and  its  walls  were 
smeared  with  soot  and  tobacco  juice.      The  bare  floor,  which 
had  never  known  a  mop  or  a  scrubbing-brush,  was  coated  with 
a  layer  of  soil  thick  enough  to  raise  a  crop   of  potatoes — but 
the  bed,  and  the  curtains,  and  the  linen  !   (though,  to  be  exactly 
truthful — it  wasn't  linen) — these  I  must  leave  to  the  reader's 
imagination,  for  no  description  would  do  them  justice.     Suffice 
it  to  say  that  after  an  hour's  persistent  efibrt,  I  did  eff'ect  some 
improvement  in  them  ;  and  then,  "  wrapping  the  drapery  of  my 
couch"  about  me,  I  lay  down,  but  not  to  "  pleasant  dreams  ;" 
for  at  that  moment  the  darkies  in  the  barber's  shop  below  stairs 
struck  up  "  de  banjo  an'  de  bones,"  and  for  two  mortal  hours  I 
was  forced  to  listen  to  all  the  Ethiopian  songs,  written  and  un- 
written, in  existence.     In  sheer  desperation  I  finally  rose,  took 
a  seat  by  the  window,  and  to  the  intense   delight  of  the  sable 
melodists,  joined  in  the  refrains.     To  give  the  reader  an  idea 
of  what  I  had  to   endure,  and   of  what    "  public    sentiment" 
among  the  darkies  of  Nashville  may  be  supposed  to  be,  I  sub- 
join one  of  the  songs,  which  I  tried  to  take  down  in  the  dark  : 

"I'll  sing  you  a  song  to  suit  de  times, 

Called  bobbin  around,  around,  around; 
You'll  see  dar's  reason  in  de  rhymes, 

As  dey  gwo  bobbin'  around. 
Ole  Rosey's  down  in  Tennessee, 
Bobbin'  around,  around,  around ; 


THE    UNION    SCOUT.  57 

An'  settin'  all  de  darkies  free, 
As  ho  gwo  bobbin'  around. 

"He'm  straddled  on  de  big  ole  gray, 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around; 
An'  all  Secesh — dey  clar  de  way, 

As  he  gwo  bobbin'  around ; 
Dey  yere  de  Union  fife  and  drum. 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around ; 
An'  know  de  judgment-day  am  come, 

Wen  dey  am  bobbin'  around. 

"  Ole  massa  see  dat  ole  war  boss, 

Bobbin'  around,  around^  around; 
Says  he  :  '  You  Pomp — it  all  am  loss, 

Fur  Rosey's  bobbin'  around!' 
He  use  to  cut  a  mighty  dash. 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around, 
But  den  he  tuk  a  brandy-smash, 

An'  did  gwo  bobbin'  around. 

"  He  bob  so  bad  dat  down  he  fell, 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around; 
An'  neber  riz  dis  side  ob — well — 

Dis  side — a  bobbin'  around. 
He  lefiF  dis  nig  ahind  to  play. 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around ; 
I  reckon  he'll  play  it  all  de  day. 

An'  den — gwo  bobbin'  around. 

"  Come  all  you  darkies  jine  de  song, 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around, 
You  all  am  free — so  gwo  it  strong, 

As  you  gwo  bobbin'  around. 
De  big  Secesh  no  more  will  be 

Bobbin'  around,  around,  around ; 
Fur  Rosey's  down  in  Tennessee, 

An'  he  am  bobbin'  around." 

It  was  Dearly  eleven  o'clock  when  the  good-natured  darkey 
who  led  the  minstrels,  put  his  head  out  of  the  window,  and  said 


58  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

to  me:  "Now,  massa,  we'll  'elude  de  ex'cises  ob  de  evenin' 
by  singin'  Ole  John  Brown,  wid  de  variations ;  and  you'm  'spec'- 
fully  'vited  to  jine  de  chorus." 

I  did  "jine  de  chorus,"  and  therefore  the  reader  is  deprived 
of  the  "  variations,"  which  I  might  otherwise  have  committed 
to  paper.  However,  if  he  is  curious  about  them  I  can  gratify 
him  with  others  quite  as  good,  for  while  I  was  in  Tennessee  I 
assisted  at  the  martyrdom  of  "  Ole  John  Brown"  at  least  twenty 
times,    and  each  time  it  was  done  with  "  variations." 

Nothing,  perhaps,  so  forcibly  illustrates  the  progress  of  eman- 
cipation sentiment  in  the  army,  and  among  the  people  of  Ten- 
nessee, as  the  wonderful  popularity  of  that  song.  It  is  sung  by 
every  one,  high  and  low,  and  everywhere  its  spirit  is  felt.  Truly 
John  Brown  s  "  soul  is  a  marching  on !" 


THE    NASHVILLE   PKISON.  ^^ 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    NASHVILLE    PRISON. 


Thk  next  day  .'as  Sunday.     I  rose  early,  and  going  down  to 
the  office  found  my  friend  the  Colonel  already  stirring.     "Ah 
he  said,  as  I  bade  him  "good-morning,"  "I'm  in  luck.      An 
orderly  has   eome  in  with  my  horse,  and  an  ambulance  goes 
out  under  an  escort  this  morning.     In  half  an  hour  I  shall  be 

'^FTnune  was  distant  only  eighteen  miles,  but  the  road  was 
infested  with  guerillas,  and  .vas  unsafe  for  single  travellers.] 

"  I  am  glad  for  that,  on  your  account,  but  sorry  on  my  own. 
I  had  reckoned  on  your  aid  in  procuring  access  to  my  fnends 

at  the  prison."  ,  t,,  ^■ 

"  You'll  have  no  difficulty  about  that.    Call  on  Colonel  Martm 
at  the  Capitol;  tell  him  who  you  are,  and  he'll  give  you  a 

.  permit." 

After  breakfast,  with  mutual  expressions  of  good-will  we 
parted  I  have  formed  many  agreeable  acquaintances  while 
travelling,  but  never  one  more  agreeable  than  the  sturdy  Indiana 
Colonel.  He  had  a  frank,  glowing,  genial  nature  that  attracted 
me  irresistibly  to  him,  just  as  one  is  attracted  to  a  warm  wood 
fire  on  a  winter  evening.  Indeed  he  is  somehow  associated  in 
my  mind  with  a  generous  wood  fire-one  of  the  glorious,  old- 
fashioned  kind;  of  oaken  logs,  piled  high  on  a  broad  hearth, 
and  giving  out  oxygen  enough  to  supply  a  small  village. 


60  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

When  he  was  ^one,  the  landlord  said  to  me,  "  If  you  don't 
know  none  of  the  military  folk,  Sir,  you  stand  a  sorry  chance  of 
gittin'  inter  the  prison.  Ye  see,  they  karn't  admit  them  as 
they  don't  know.     'Twoukln't  do,  nohow." 

If  that  -was  true,  I  was  in  a  dilemma.  I  had  provided  against 
such  a  contingency  by  taking  with  me,  on  leaving  home,  half  a 
dozen  introductory  letters  to  Governor  Johnson,  but  that  gen- 
tleman was  not  in  Nashville,  and  might  not  arrive  for  a  week, 
therefore  they  were  of  no  present  value. 

As  I  sat  down  to  ponder  over  "  the  situation,"  I  suddenly 
remembered  having  heard  that  the  son  of  an  old  friend  was  an 
officer  in  a  Tennessee  regiment.  "  Landlord,"  I  said,  address- 
ing the  publiQan — (he  told  me  he  was  also  a  Re-publican,  but 
other  trustworthy  persons  assured  me  that  he  was  a  rabid 
rebel.  This  I  thought  accounted  «for  the  filthy  condition  of 
his  establishment).  "  Landlord,"  I  said,  "  can  you  tell  me  where 
the Tennessee  is  stationed  T' 

"  Here,  Sir  ;  'bout  two  miles  out — nigh  to  Fort  Negley." 

This  was  agreeable  news,  and  writing  a  few  lines  to  the 
young  Tennesseean,  in  which  I  alluded  to  my  long  friendship 
with  his  father,  and  asked  him  "  to  come  over  and  help"  me. 
I  despatched  d  messenger  at  once  to  the  camp.  In  about  an 
hour  the  negro  returned,  but  with  the  unwelcome  tidings  that 
"  de  Cap'n  am  off,  Sar ;  off  scoutin'  it,  Sar,  and  dey  doau't  know 
when  he'll  be  back,  but  dey  reckon  he'll  come  yere,  d'recly  he 
come,  Sar ;  d'recly  he  come,  Sar." 

The  morning  was  passing  away  while  I  was  thus  casting 
about  for  an  escort,  and  at  last  I  determined  to  do  what  I  should 
have  done  at  first — set  out  alone. 

As  I  climbed  the  steep  hill  which  leads  to  the  Capitol,  I  was 


THE   NASHVILLE   PRISON.  d 

Struck  with  the  gloomy  aspect  of  the  silent,  sombre  houses,  and 
the  noiseless,  deserted   streets.      It  was  a  bright,  sunmicr-like 
day,  and   near  the   hour  for   morning   service;  but,    with    the 
exception  oT  a  solitary  soldier,  or  a  smartly-dressed  darkey,  saun- 
tering idly  along,  no  one  was  abroad.    The  wl.ite  population  had 
mostly  fled,  and  the  few   that  remained  welcomed  the  "  Nor- 
thern   intruders"  with    bolted    doors    and  barred  windows.     T 
realized  I  was  walking  the  streets  of  a  conquered  city.    Arrived 
at  the  Capitol-an  imposing  pile  of  white  marble,  more  spacious 
and  beautiful  than  any  similar  edifice  in  the  Northern  States-I 
found  mvself  under  the  walls  of  a  huge  fortress,  frowning  ^^irh 
cannon  and  encircled  with  breastworks.     Its  marble  steps  were 
flanked  by  stockades,  and  its  broad  battlements  crowned  with 
artillery,   which,  from   its   elevated   position,  commanded   the 
entire  \own  and  surrounding  suburbs.     In  the  distance,  the 
Casino   and  Forts  Negley  and  Confiscation  looked  down  from 
rocky  elevations,  and  beyond  them   a  broad  belt   of  military 
camps  engirdled  the  captive  city.     To  my  unpractised  eye  the 
defences  seemed,  as  they  no   doubt  are,  impregnable,  and  with 
what  emotions  must  they  be  contemplated  by  Nashville's  to- 
bacco lords,  who  skulking  back  from  exile  in  Dixie,  stand  now 
and  then  on  those  neighboring  hills,  and  look  down  on  the 
homes  their  own  mad  treason  has  shut  them   out  from  for- 


Approaching  the  sentinel  at  the  principal  stairway,  I  said : 
"  Will  you  tell  me  where  to  find  Colonel  Martin  ?" 

«  An  shoore  an'  I  'will,  Sir.  FoUer  the  grand  hall  till  ye 
come  fSrninst  the  Guv'ner's  room-ye'h  spy  it  over  the^dhoor, 
thin,  say  nothin'  to  nobody,  but  go  straight  in,  Sir,  an'  ax  fur 
the  Cunnel,  an'  ye'll  have  him." 


62  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Thank  you.  And  pray,  what  brought  you  here — all  the 
way  from  auld  Ireland." 

"Fath,  yer  honor,  an'  I  come  to  fight — to  fight  for  the  nay- 
gur ;"  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  if  what  he 'said  might 
not  be  strictly  true. 

"  You  don't  mean  that." 

"  Troth,  an'  I  does.  I  niver  loiked  the  black  divils — though 
them  as  is  here  hain't  black,  fur  they's  yaller — till  I  come  out 
to  fight  fur  'em;  but  I've  sort  o'  takin'  to  'em  since.  An 
Irishman,  ye  knows,  if  he's  niver  a  hapenny  in  his  pocket,  has 
allers  a  feller  feelin'  fur  a  poor  divil  as  is  poorer  thin  he  is — an' 
sorry  a  bit  of  any  thing  in  the  world  has  the  naygur.  He  don't 
own  his  own  children.  Sir ;  not  avin  the  flesh  on  his  bones." 

""  Your  kindred,  where  I  live,  are  not  of  your  way  of  thinking." 

"  An'  where  may  that  be,  yer  honor  ?" 

"In  New  York." 

"  Oh,  yis,  I  know ;  they's  all  Dimocrats  there,  an'  Fernandy 
Wud  Dimocrats  at  that — bad  luck  to  thim.  If  you'd  loike  to 
kinvart  'em.  Sir,  jest  send  'em  out  here.  I  warrant  ye  they 
won't  be  four  an'  twenty  'oours  in  the  State  till  they's  Black 
Republicans — as  black  as  the  naygurs  themselves.  An  Irish- 
man's a  heart  in  him,  Sir,  an',  be  gorry,  he  can't  see  the  poor 
craytures  wid  his  own  eyes  widout  havin'  a  feller  feelin'  fur 
'em." 

"  Well,  good-by,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

"  Good-by,  an'  good  luck  to  yerself,  yer  honor ;"  and  he 
called  out  as  I  passed  up  the  stairway,  "  Go  straight  on,  yer 
honor,  an'  say  nothin'  to  nobody ;  but  ax  fur  the  Gunnel,  an' 
ye'll  find  him,  right  forninst  the  Guv'ner's  room,  ye  mind,  its 
over  the  dhoor." 


THE    NASUVILLE   PRISON.  63 

I  found  the  "  Governor's  room,"  in  blazing  gilt,  "  over  the 
dhoor,"  and  entered  the  opposite  apartment.  I  had  less  diffi- 
culty than  I  had  anticipated  in  procuring  access  to  the  prison. 
The  potent  "  open  sesame"  were  certain  names  I  carried  in  my 
pocket,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  I  was  on  my  way  elate 
with  the  expectation  of  shortly  seeing  "  my  Southern  friends." 

The  Nashville  Penitentiary  was  burned  at  the  taking  of  the 
city  by  the  Union  forces.  The  building  now  used  as  a  State 
Prison  is  located  about  a  mile  outside  of  the  city  limits,  and  is 
of  brick,  surrounded  by  a  high  wall  covering  an  area  of  perhaps 
two  acres.  It  was  buik,  as  I  learned  from  a  marble  slab  im- 
bedded in  the  wall  over  the  doorway,  in  1828,  and  looks  sub- 
stantial enough  to  last  for  a  dozen  centuries.  As  I  approached 
its  broad  entrance-way,  I  saw  at  my  right,  in  a  spacious  yard 
surrounded  by  a  low  stone  fence,  a  hundred  or  more  motley- 
uniformed  Confederates,  engaged  in  the  favorite  out-door  occu- 
pations of  their  class,  such  as  "  seven-up,"  "  quoits,"  "  pitch  and 
toss,"  and  "  chuck-a-luck."  A  sad-visaged  man,  dressed  in  seedy 
B^ack,  was  pacing  to  and  fro  among  them,  now  and  then  paus- 
ing to  gaze  abstractedly  at  the  players,  and  again  walking  on, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  distance,  as  if  searching  for  some  sign  of 
"  the  good  time"  which  every  mortal  thinks  is  "  coming."  To 
him,  poor  man,  it  is  a  long  way  off,  for  he  will  not  go  out,  he 
says,  until  the  South  is  independent.  He  was  the  political 
editor  of  The  Baptist  Standard^  and  refusing  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance,  has  been  confined  there  seven  long  months.  A 
few  more  decently  clad  persons  were  in  the  assemblage,  but 
much  the  larger  portion  were  the  most  wretched  specimens  of 
"  white  trash"  I  had  ever  seen.  In  all  sorts  of  habiliments — 
coatless,  hatless,  shoeless,  with  matted  hair  and  dirt-incrusted 

V 


64  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

faces,  they  seemed  recently  exhumed  from  some  pig-sty  or 
barn-yard.  Love  of  "  our  native  soil,"  with  them,  was  evidently 
a  living  sentiment. 

Passincr  on,  I  asked  the  guard  at  the  doorway  to  call  the 
keeper.  That  gentleman  soon  appeared,  and  I  made  known  to 
him  my  business, 

"Xo  persons  of  those  names  are  here,  or  have  been  here. 
Sir  !" 

And  such  is  the  vanity  of  human  pursuits  !  I  had  travelled 
a  thousand  miles  on  a  fruitless  errand  !  Vexed  and  disappointed, 
I  was  turning  away,  when  the  keeper  politely  said: 

"You  look  tired;  won't  you  walk  in  and  sit  down  ?" 

I  followed  him  into  the  prison,  and  after  I  had  rested  a  while 
he  invited  me  to  look  through  it.  It  is  in  two  divisions,  one 
devoted  to  criminals,  the  other  to  prisoners  of  war.  None  of 
the  latter  are  confined  in  cells,  but,  during  the  day,  are  allowed 
to  range  freely  over  the  yard  and  the  several  floors  of  the  build- 
ing. At  night  they  are  locked  into  roomy  apartments,  where 
often  a  dozen,  and  sometimes  twenty,  camp  down  together  <0h 
straw  mattresses  spread  on  the  floor.  The  sleeping  accommo- 
dations are  not  much  to  boast  of,  but  they  are,  no  doubt,  far 
superior  to  what  the  prisoners  are  accustomed  to  in  Dixie.  As 
we  were  passing  over  the  second  floor  the  keeper  said  to  me : 

*'  In  the  further  room  is  the  Colonel  of  the  first  Tennessee 
cavalry — Colonel  Brewer,  formerly  a  lawyer  in  this  place.  He 
was  taken  at  Brentwood,  some  five  weeks  ago.  He  is  a  very 
sociable,  gentlemanly  man,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  you.  AVill 
you  go  in  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  I'll  not  intrude  upon  him." 

"  He'll  consider  it  no  intrusion.     I'll  ask  him.'' 


THE    NASHVILLE    PRISON.  65 

He  rapped  at  the  door  and  a  voice  called  out,  "  Come  in," 

"Ah,  Colonel,  good-morning,"  said  the  keeper,  stepping  into 
the  apartment.  "  I'm  showing  this  gentleman  over  the  building. 
lie's  right  from  the  North,  and  I  knew  you'd  like  to  see  him." 

"  Most  certiuuly  I  should.     Ask  him  in." 

As  I  entered,  the  prisoner  measured  me  with  a  rapid  glance ; 
then,  without  rising,  held  out  his  hand,  saying  cordially,  "  I'm 
glad  to  see  you,  Sir ;  pray  be  seated.  Mr.  Keeper,  be  so  good 
as  to  hand  a  chair." 

"  No,  excuse  me.  Sir,"  I  replied  ;  "  I'll  not  stay  ;  Til  not  in- 
trude on  you  in  your  present  circumstances," 

"  My  present  circumstances  are  the  very  reason  you  should. 
Sir.  I  see  no  one,  except  the  sentinel,  from  one  week  to  an- 
other. I've  nothing  to  look  at  but  these  blank  walls,  and  ther 
*  human  face  divine' has  grown  wonderfully  attractive  to  me. 
It's  as  pleasant  as  thoughts  of  home.  So  pray,  sit  down. 
I'll  return  the  favor  to  the  first  one  of  your  *  countrymen'  who 
falls  into  my  hands." 

Thus  entreated,  I  could  not  decline.  As  I  took  the  proffered 
seat,  I  glanced  around  the  apartment.  It  was  spacious  and 
well  lighted  by  mullioned  windows.  Along  its  sides  were 
ranofed  half  a  dozen  camp  beds  ;  and  as  many  chairs,  and  two 
small  tables  straggled  about  the  floor.  Its  walls  were  not  over- 
cleanly,  but  the  floor  was  nicely  sanded,  and  the  whole  had  a 
tidy,  comfortable  appearance.  It  was  evidently  reserved  for 
the  better  class  of  political  prisoners.  Its  occupant  was  a 
man  of  about  thirty-five,  and  of  decidedly  prepossessing  appear- 
ance. He  had  a  fine,  intellectual  face,  and  long  brown  hair,  as 
soft  and  glossy  as  a  woman's  ;  but  a  full,  dark  eye,  wide,  strong 
jaws,  and  a  firmly  cut  mouth,  showed  him  possessed  of  a  manly, 


66  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

determined  character.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  no  com- 
mon man.  He  was  dressed  in  the  Confederate  uniform,  and  as 
he  lay  on  the  outside  of  a  cot,  in  a  half-recumbent  attitude,  he 
every  now  and  then  moved  uneasily,  as  if  in  pain.  Seeing  this 
I  said : 

"  Are  you  wounded  ?" 

"Yes;  your  boys  gave  me  a  pill  when  they  captured  me. 
The  ball  entered  here,"  opening  his  shirt,  and  showing  a  large 
scar  JQst  below  his  heart.  "  The  flesh  has  healed,  but  the  ribs 
are  not  yet  well  knit  together.  It  bothers  me  some  to  keep  an 
easy  position.  But,  tell  me,  what  is  your  name,  and  where  do 
you  live  ?" 

I  told  him. 

"  And  do  you  know  a  gentleman  of  your  name — let  me  see, 
what  is  his  first  name  ? ,  I  think," 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  know  him,  though  I  ought  to.  I'm  the 
man  himself." 

"  You  are !"  and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  shook  me 
again  warmly  by  the  hand.  "  I'm  delighted  to  know  you.  I've 
heard  Dick speak  often  of  you." 

"  I  know  him  well ;  we  were  intimate  friends  for  twenty 
years." 

"  So  he's  told  me.  We've  been  all  through  the  war  together. 
He's  a  prince  of  a  fellow.  Davis  has  just  made  him  a  general. 
But  he  says  you've  turned  Abolitionist." 

"  Not  exactly  that ;  but  I  go  for  putting  you  rebels  down, 
and  I  think  it  can't  be  done  without  taking  away  your  slaves.'* 

"  But  you  can't  put  us  down,"  he  replied,  good-humoredly  ; 
"  you'll  have  to  crush  our  military  power  before  you  reach  the 
darkies,  and  you  ought  to  know  you  can't  do  that." 


THE   NASHVILLE   PRISON.  67 

"  I  don't  know  it.  It's  a  mere  question  of  time  and  num- 
bers ;    tlirce  against  one  are  sure  to  conquer  in  the  long  run." 

"  When  the  tliree  have  brains ;  but,  you  see,  your  three 
haven't." 

*'I  know  your  generals  have  thus  far  shown  more  ability 
than  ours ;  but  occasions  are  sure  to  develop  men,  though  it 
may  take  time.  IIow  long  was  it  before  the  English  Revolu- 
tion produced  Cromwell,  and  the  French,  JsTapoleon  ?" 

"A  long  time,  I  know.  But  generals  are  not  what  you 
want.  You  have  them  now.  You  have  Rosecrans,  and  Banks, 
and  Grant,  and  little  Phil.  Sherridan  down  there  at  Mui*frees- 
boro.  Either  of  them  is  a  match  for  any  leader  we  have,  and 
Rosecrans  is  head  and  shoulders  above  any  general  on  this 
continent.  He  has  a  great,  organizing,  military  mind.  He 
checkmated  Lee  so  handsomely  in  Western  Virginia  that  Lee 
himself  isn't  ashamed  to  own  it.  \iwe  had  him  we'd  whip  you 
in  ninety  days ;  but  you  shut  him  up,  without  supplies  or  horses, 
where  he  can  do  nothing,  and  where  our  cavalry  can  walk  round 
him,  as  a  clown  walks  round  the  pole  at  a  circus.  It  is  not  gen- 
erals you  want.   You  want  brains.  You  want  an  Administration." 

"  But  we  think  we  have  one,"  I  answered,  lauo^hinor ;  '-'•  slow, 
it  may  be,  but  sure;  and  *as  honest  as  the  times  allow.' " 

"Slow,  it's  true;  but — honest!  Talk  of  its  being  honesty 
with  Stanton  in  it !  a  man  as  corrupt  as  sin,  as  venal  as  a  Tombs 
lawyer !  and  as  ignorant  as  a  darkey.  And  you  trust  the  man- 
agement of  a  great  war  to  him !  But,  it  suits  us  exactly.  It 
convinces  me  the  Almighty  means  we  shall  be  free." 

*'  But  never  will  be  free.  Your  Government  is  a  despotism 
already,  and  whatever  may  be  said  of  ours,  our  liberties  are  safo 
with  it." 


68  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

•  "  Liberties  !  There's  an  awful  amount  of  cant  about  that 
word.  Our  people  are  as  free  as  people  should  be.  This  idea 
of  universal  suffrage — niakirfg  a  small  sovereign  of  every 
ignorant  clodhopper  who  comes  into  the  country,  is  played 
out.  We've  tried  it  under  the  old  Government,  and  had 
enough  of  it.  Eepublican  institutions  are  a  failure,  and  you'll 
be  convinced  of  it  before  many  years." 

A  two  hours'  conversation,  ranorino:  over  these  and  kindred 
subjects,  ensued  between  the  Colonel  and  myself,  and  in  the 
course  of  it  he  stated,  that  it  is  the  purpose  of  the  rebel 
leaders  to  found  an  elective  monarchy,  and  that  they  had  that 
design  at  the  inception  of  the  Rebellion.  "  I  own  no  slaves," 
he  said,  "  and  am  therefore  not  personally  interested  in  sustain- 
ing the  institution.  I  am  fighting  for  something  that  I  can 
leave  to  those  after  me — a  title  that  can  be  perpetuated  in  my 
family ;  and  I  know,  whether  I  live  or  di«,  I  shall  be  success- 
ful ;  for,  if  I  am  killed,  my  country  will  do  me  justice  in  my 
children." 

He  spoke  freely  and  openly  of  this.  "  I  am  willing,"  ho 
said,  "  that  all  mankind  should  know  it.  The  time  has  gone 
by  when  it  was  policy  to  conceal  it  from  our  poorer  classes. 
We  have  them  now  where  they  munt  submit,  and  with  the  rest 
of  the  world — England,  France,  Spain,  and  even  Russia,  which 
now  so  cottons  to  the  North — it  will  vastly  help  us." 

He  expressed  the  opinion  that  a  rupture  is  imminent  between 
England  and  the  United  States.  "England,  till  now,  has 
covertly  played  into  our  hands.  She  will  soon  throw  off  the 
mask,  and  do  overt  acts  that  will  make  war  inevitable,  if  the 
Northern  people  have  a  spark  of  manhood  or  self-respect 
left." 


THE    NASHVILLE    PRISON.  69 

If  Yiclv-sburg  had  not  fallen — if  Lee  had  not  been  defeated 

if  the  Copperhead  leaders  had  not  been  foiled  in  their  attempt 
to  force  New  York  into  the  Eebellion,  what  the  rebel  Colonel 
predicted  might,  ere    this,  have  proved   true. 


70  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R  YI. 


THE    ARMY    CHAPLAIN. 


Walking  slowly  back  through  the  open  fields,  I  came,  at  the 
distance  of  a  short  half  mile  from  the  prison,  upon  the  white 
tents  of  a  regiment  of  infantry.  A  few  sentinels  were  pacing 
to  and  fro  among  them,  but  they  were  otherwise  deserted. 
Xear  by,  however,  under  the  broad  branches  of  a  mammoth 
maple,  the  denizens  of  the  canvas  city  were  gathered  around  a 
spare,  gray-haired,  thin-visaged  man,  dressed  in  a  stiff  black 
stock,  a  check  n^^glige  shirt,  and  blue  lower  garments,  who,  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  was  holding  forth  on  the  beauties  of  Freedom. 
Attracted  by  his  earnest  manner,  and  his  rich,  mellow  voice, 
which  rano^  out  on  the  still  air  like  the  call  of  a  buo-le  on  the 
eve  of  battle,  I  joined  the  half-a-thousand  martial  auditors, 
who,  seated  on  camp-stools,  leaning  on  muskets,  or  lolling  on 
the  thick  green  grass  which  carpeted  the  ground,  were  drink- 
ing in  his  words  as  if  they  were  the  notes  of  an  opera  singer. 

"I  am  tired  and  disgusted,"  he  said,  "  with  this  endless  talk 
about  the  everlasting  negro.  I  doubt  not  he  is  a  man,  with 
very  much  such  blood,  and  bones,  and  brains,  and  soul  as  we 
have.  I  doubt  not  his  destiny  is  linked  with  ours — and  that  in 
the  coming  life  many,  very  many  of  his  sooty  race  will  hold  the 
highest  seats  in  the  synagogue,  and  look  down  on  us  as  we  now 
look  down  on  them.  But  that  is  no  reason  why  we  should  wor- 
ship him — no  reason  why  we  should  settle  him  comfortably  in 


THE    ARMY    CHAPLAIN.  71 

his  master's  easy  chair,  and  let  him  idle  away  his  life  smok- 
ing bad  tobacco  and  drinking  mean  whiskey,  while  we  are 
fighting  for  his  freedom.  No,  boys,  give  him  freedom — every 
man,  whatever  liis  color,  is  entitled  to  that — but  make  him 
fight  for  it.  Make  him  do  what  we  have  to  do — work  out  our 
own  salvation  on  hard  tack  and  salt  pork,  with  often  not  half 
enough  of  that.  Tell  him  that  Jolin  Brown  is  a  marching  on, 
but  '  marching  on'  over  Tennessee  roads,  wnth  sore  feet  and 
weary  legs,  and  the  mud  over  his  boots ;  and  tell  him,  too,  fhat 
the  black  man,  if  he  would  be  free,  must  follow  where  John 
Brown  leads.  If  he  will  not  do  this — give  him  Ilail  Columbia, 
and  never  let  his  ugly  face  be  seen  among  you  again. 

"  And  those  of  you  who  worship  the  ebony  idol,  who  in 
pity  for  the  wrongs  of  the  black  forget  that  our  own  race  lias 
greater  wrongs  and  deeper  woes  than  his,  let  me  tell  you  wliat 
is  worthy  of  your  worship — what  all  good  and  true  men,  in  all 
times,  have  worshipped — what  they  have  fought,  and  suffered, 
and  died  for,  with  songs  on  their  lips  and  joy  in  their  hearts — 
and  then,  if  you  persist  in  shutting  your  eyes  to  every  thing  in 
heaven  and  earth  but  the  black  man,  you  are  past  all  hope,  and 
— '  may  God  have  mercy  on  your  souls.' 

'*  What  I  would  have  you  worship  is  Freedom — white  Free- 
dom— Freedom  for  All  Mex.  Poets  have  sung  of  it  as  a 
beautiful  maiden,  glowing  as  the  dawn,  radiant  as  the  stars, 
smiling  as  the  sun  when  he  first  looked  on  the  earth.  They 
have  said  that  her  throne  is  the  glory  of  Heaven,  her  light  the 
hope  of  the  world ;  that  her  home  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her 
resting-place  the  hearts  of  men ;  that  she  has  crowned  the 
eailh  with  beauty,  and  filled  its  dwellings  with  joy ;  that  its 
fragrant  fields  waft  her  incense,  and  its  gorgeous  cities  speak 


72  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

her  praise ;  tbat  on  lowly  cots  and  lofty  mansions,  on  teeming 
workshops  and  hallowed  temples,  her  name  is  written — written 
in  letters  that  will  outlast  the  marble,  and  grow  in  splendor 
forever.  And  this  is  true ;  but,  I  have  seen  her  stripped  of  her 
glory — a  wanderer  and  a  fugitive  in  the  earth.  I  have  seen  her 
floeing  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and  hiding  away  among  the 
rocks  and  caves  of  the  wilderness.  I  have  seen  her  back 
scarred  with  lashes,  and  her  limbs  quivering  with  pain  ;  her  soul 
racl:ed  with  anguish,  and  her  body  tortured  with  fire ;  I  have 
seen  her  weeping  like  Rachel  for  her  children — weeping  amid 
the  ruins  of  all  she  loved ;  and,  worse  than  this,  I  have  seen 
her  fainting  in  her  misery  and  grovelling  in  her  shame,  and  I 
have  heard  her  deny  the  God  who  made  her  and  the  heaven 
from  which  she  came  ! 

"  And  all  this  I  have  seen  here — in  this  land,  every  inch  of 
whose  soil  is  wet  with  the  blood  our  fathers  shed  to  make  it 
fr^.e ! 

"And  shall  this  longer  be?  Shall  we  shut  our  eyes  and  steel 
our  hearts  to  the  woes  of  the  white  man,  while  we  weep  salt 
tears  over  the  wrongs  of  the  black  ?  Shall  we  let  this  accursed 
race  of  men-stealers  and  women-whippers  go  free  when  the 
slave  is  liberated  ?  Or,  shall  we  say  to  them,  take  your  foot 
from  off  the  neck  of  the  poor  white,  release  his  soul  from  its 
bondage — a  bondage  more  galling  than  the  fetters  of  the  slave 
— give  him  the  light  of  heaven  and  the  knowledge  of  earth, 
and  let  his  children  know  there  is  a  God  and  a  life  to  come. 
Shall  we  not  say  this  ?  Shall  we  be  men  if  we  say  less  ?  What 
one  of  you  will  consent  that  this  war  shall  end  till  the  white 
man,  as  well  as  the  black,  is  Free  ?" 

And  then   the  Chaplain  descanted  on  the  condition  of  the 


THE   ARMY    CHAPLAIN.  73 

poor  white  man  and  on  the  system  and  the  men  that  have  made 
him  what  he"  is ;  and  for  another  half  hour  I  listened  to  as  odd 
a  medley  of  slang  and  poetry,  hightalutcn  and  quaint  eloquence, 
as  ever  foil  from  preacher's  lips. 

When  a  hymn  was  sung  and  a  benediction  said,  I  turned 
slowly  away  and  resumed  my  walk  towards  the  city.  As  I 
neared  the  camp  I  saw  the  Chaplain,  still  divested  of  his  coat, 
approaching  me  at  a  brisk  pace.  As  he  came  opposite,  I  in- 
stinctively touched  my  hat  to  him,  and,  returning  the  salutation, 
he  said  :  *'  xY  pleasant  evening,  Sir." 

"  Very  pleasant,"  I  replied.  "  Let  me  thank  you,  Sir,  for 
the  very  eloquent  address  I  have  just  listened  to." 

"  Let  me  thank  you^  Sir,  for  your  flattering  opinion  of  it. 
Not  all,  however,  who  praise  my  sermons,  subscribe  to  my  doo^ 
triues." 

"  I  heard  nothing  to  cavil  at.  You  think  the  white  trash 
more  to  be  pitied  than  the  black  slaves,  and  that  the  slave-owner 
must  be  shorn  of  his  power  to  give  the  poor  man  a  chance  to 
rise." 

"I  do  ;  and  that  is  reason  enough  for  freeing  the  negro.  The 
slaveholders  more  than  the  slave  system,  are  the  curse  of  this 
country ;  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  of  them  have  ruled  it 
for  fifty  years." 

*'  I  know  it.  I  gave  that  idea  to  the  public  more  than  a 
year  ago." 

"Did  you?     In  what?" 

I  told  him,  and  the  announcement  secured  me  a  cordial 
grasp  of  his  hand,  a  hearty  "God  bless  you,"  and  an  urgent  re- 
quest to  join  him  at  dinner.  Being  curious  to  see  more  of  so 
original  a  character,  I  accepted  the  invitation. 


74  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

The  Chaplain's  "  lodge"  was  at  the  further  end  of  the  en- 
campment, and  looked  down  a  well-swept,  gravelled  avenue, 
which  the  soldiers  had  built  between  the  two  rows  of  canvas 
houses.  It  was  much  more  spacious  than  those  about  it.  its 
roof  was  formed  of  two  "  shelter-tents,"  meeting  together  at  the 
ridge,  and  its  two  gables  were  constructed  of  triangular  pieces 
of  coarse  cotton  cloth.  One  end  and  its  two  sides  were  covered 
with  strips  of  weather-boarding,  roughly  nailed  to  short  stakes, 
and  showing,  by  the  vestiges  of  paint  which  still  adhered  to 
them,  that  they  had  already  done  service  on"  some  of  the  dis- 
mantled dwellings  in  the  vicinity.  Two  camp-cots,  several  am- 
putated chairs,  a  small,  unpainted  pine  table,  two  or  three 
travelling  trunks,  and  an  old  negro — to  all  appearance  old 
enough  to  have  been  with  his  forefather,  Ham,  in  the  Ark — 
who  lay  fast  asleep  in  one  corner,  composed  the  furniture  of 
the  interior. 

Tendering  me  one  of  the  broken-backed  chairs,  the  Preacher 
touched  the  negro  lightly  with  his  foot,  and  said  to  him : 
"  Wake  up,  Julius.  Wake  up."  As  the  ancient  African 
turned  over  and  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  the  Parson  continued : 
*'Come,  old  fellow,  order  dinner — dinner  for  three,  and  then 
give  us  a  taste  of  whiskey-punch.     D'ye  hear  ?" 

"Yas,  yas,  Massa,  I  yeres.  Pll  git  'em  quicker  no  time. 
Wat  a  powerful  sermon  dat  wus  o'youm,  massa — powerful,"  re- 
plied the  black,  as,  raising  himself  from  the  ground,  first  on  one 
knee,  and  then  on  the  other,  and  steadying  himself  by  one  of 
the  camp-cots,  he  painfully  clambered  to  his  feet.  When  he 
had  reached  his  highest  altitude  he  might  have  been  four  feet 
and  ten  inches  from  the  enormous  brogans  which  formed  his 
base  of  operations ;  but  if  nature  had  denied  him  height,  she 


THE    ARMY    CHArLAIN.  75 

had,  true  to  her  system  of  "  compensation,"  given  him  breadth 
and  thickness.  He  certainly  measured  four  feet  around  the 
hips,  and  across  the  chest — on  his  back  was  a  protuberance  as 
large  as  a  bushel  basket — some  unknown  quantity  I  did  not 
even  guess  at.  AVith  his  low  stature,  his  hump-back,  his  white, 
frizzled  locks,  and  his  short,  band}'  legs,  which  bowed  in  like  a 
cow's  horns,  he  might  have  been  taken  for  Richard  III.,  risen 
from  Bosworth  field,  and,  in  his  old  age,  turned  negro  preacher. 

"  Yes,  powerful,"  rejoined  the  parson,  "  but  mighty  little  you 
heard  of  it.     You  were  fast  asleep  the  whole  time." 

"  Well,  Massa,  but  I  yeard  it.  Dis  pore  ole  body  wus 
a  sleepin'  down  dar,  but  de  sperrit  soared  'way  ter  you — it 
did  Massa;  it  yeard  ebery  word — ebery  word." 

"  What  was  the  text  ?" 

*'I  does'nt  zactly  'member,  Massa  Parson,"  rejoined  the 
black,  manipulating  his  wool  in  the  manner  peculiar  to  his 
race ;  "  I  does'nt  zactly  'member,  but  I  tinks  it  wus  suffin' 
loike  de  Lord  am  good  ter  all  dat  lub  Him.  Suffin'  loike  dat, 
Massa." 

"  Xo,  you  old  sinner,  it  wasn't  any  thing  like  it — It  was : 
*  Without  are  dogs  and  sorcerers,  and  whosoever  loveth  and 
maketh  a  lie.'  And  that's  where  you'll  get,  old  man,  if  you 
don't  give  up  your  everlasting  lying.  But  come,  stir  your 
stumps.     Order  dinner  and  get  the  whiskey." 

The  old  black  rolled  himself  off.  When  he  was  out  of  hear- 
ing, I  said  to  the  Parson :  "  You  chose  your  body-servant  for 
his  beauty,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  I  didn't.  I  chose  him  for  his  piety.  There  is  more  of 
the  spirit  of  Christ  in  that  old  darky  than  I  ever  knew  in  a  hu- 
man being.     I'll  bet  m    best  sermon  against  a  glass  of  whiskey 


76 


DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE. 


that  he'll  be  in  heaven  a  thousand  years  before  any  white  man 
living." 

"  That's  great  odds,"  I  replied,  laughing;  "but  he  will  lie." 

"That  isn't  his  fault.  It's  one  of  the  etfects  of  Slavery. 
Slavery  has  forced  him  to  be  a  cringing  sycophant  all  his  life, 
and  he  can't  throw  off  the  habit  all  at  once.  Habits  are  like 
mosses  growing  to  a  tree — they  must  be  loosened  gently,  gradu- 
ally ;  if  you  strip  them  off  violently,  you  kill  the  tree." 

"  But  somehow,  I've  always  associated  a  comely  form  with  a 
beautiful  soul.  How  can  such  goodness  dwell  in  such  a  body 
as  his?" 

*'  It  is  not  the  body  that  expresses  the  soul — it  is  the  face. 
Look  at  his,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  see  heaven  reflected  in 
it.  I  have  watched  it  for  hours  as  he  has  sat  there  on  the 
ground,  his  body  bent  double,  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  chin 
resting  on  his  knees ;  and  I  have  fancied  that  his  spirit  was  really 
away  among  the  green  fields  and  the  pleasant  streams  that  lie 
on  the  other  side  of  Jordan.     I  have  no  doubt  it  was." 

We  were  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  young 
man  in  a  captain's  uniform,  whom  the  Parson  introduced  to  me 
as  his  messmate.  "  You  see,"  said  he,  "  iu  union  there  is  com- 
fort as  well  as  strength.  The  Captain  and  I  have  put  our  tents 
together,  and  thus  made  quite  a  cosey  nest  here." 

"  You  have — a  very  cosey  one.  I  think  a  little  experience 
of  this  sort  of  life  would  so  enamor  me  of  it  that  I  should  be 
reluctant  to  go  back  to  gas  and  conventionalism." 

"  It  would  ;  I  came  out  here  at  the  prompting  of  duty — to  be 
a  martyr  for  truth  and  the  Union.  But,  bless  your  soul !  I've 
found  martyrdom  so  very  pleasant  that  I'm  willing  to  suffer  it 
every  day  I  live.     This  sort  is  pleasanter,  with  salt  pork  and 


THE  AR:\n:  chaplain.  77 

cold  weather,  than  the  kind  John  Rogers  took  with  a  hot 
steak  (stake)  and  a  roaring  fire.  Do  jou  know  I  think  man 
was  meant  for  the  savage  state  !" 

"You  moan  for  tlic  green  fields,  the  open  air,  tlie  breezy 
woods,  and  Freedom." 

"  Yes,  you've  hit  it ;  you  speak  like  a  poet  and  a  philosopher 
to  boot.  But,  come,  try  some  of  this  old  saint's  punch.  Let 
me  see — what  do  yon  call  it,  Julius  ?" 

This  was  addressed  to  the  negro,  who  had  just  then  entered, 
bearing  a  mammoth  tray,  made  of  a  piece  of  pine  plank,  hol- 
lowed in  the  centre,  and  curiously  ornamented  at  the  edf>-es 
with  a  variety  of  grotesque  carvings,  executed  with  a  jack-knife. 
On  it  was  a  steaming  tankard  of  whiskey-punch,  and  four  (the 
(Jarky  had  evidently  thought  of  himself)  tin  goblets  of  decided- 
ly plebeian  appearance. 

Placing  them  on  the  small  table  which  he  drew  up  before  us, 
the  old  negro  grinningly  replied :  "  De  'lixer  ob  de  gods, 
Massa." 

"The  'lixer'  of  the  devil?"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  laughing : 
"T\Tiy,  you  old  fool,  you  don't  suppose  the  gods  drink  whiskev- 
toddy,  do  you  ?" 

"  Ob  course  dey  does,  massa  Cap'n  :  doan't  dey  hab  eberytincr 
whot's  good  in  heaben  ?  an'  haint  whiskey-toddy,  sech  as  ole 
Jule  make,  jess  'bout  de  best  ting  you  knows  on — now,  haint 
it,  massa  Cap'n  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,  Jule.  And  now  fill  up,  old  boy — one  for  your- 
self— and  let  us  drink  to  the  day  when  we  shall  all  drink  toddy 
together  in  heaven." 

"We  all  rose  and  solemnly  drained  the  cups.  When  they 
were  replaced  on  the  table,  the  parson  remarked : 


78  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

'*  There  is  nothing  so  unreasonable  in  Jule's  theory  as  may  at 
first  appear.  Xot  that  I  suppose  they  drink  whiskey-punch  in 
heaven,  but  the  connection  between  the  spirit  and  the  body  is 
so  intimate  that  I  can  easily  conceive  of  our  earthly  appetites 
clinging  to  us  after  the  soul  has  thrown  off  its  grosser  covering. 
In  that,  and  in  the  impossibility  of  gratifying  their  depraved 
longings,  much  of  the  torment  of  bad  men  in  the  future  life 
may  consist." 

Amused  at  the  oddity  of  the  idea,  I  replied  :  "  Undoubtedly 
it  mav,  and  I'll  give  you  a  fact  that  supports  the  theory  com- 
pletely. It  was  given  to  me  by  a  distinguished  gentleman — a 
Spiritualist.  He  says  that  an  eminent  lawyer — his  intimate 
friend,  and  an  inveterate  tobacco  chewer — died  and  came  to 
him  about  an  hour  afterwards.  They  had. a  long  conversation 
together,  and  in  the  course  of  it  he  asked  the  lawyer  what  his 
strono-est  desire  was  when  he  first  awoke  to  consciousness  in  the 
other  life.  'I  wanted  a  chew  of  tobacco  like  the  devil,'  was 
the  lawyer's  reply." 

At  this  the  Captain  broke  into  a  boisterous  fit  of  laughter, 
in  which  even  the  sable  saint  joined.  As  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  the  officer  exclaimed :  *'  He's  into  you.  Parson  ;  you 
must  look  out — our  friend  is  a  bit  of  a  wag." 

"But  it'm  de  trufh,  Massa  Cap'n,"  earnestly  chimed  in  the 
negro,  who  had  seated  himself  on  the  ground,  and  was  busily 
nursinor  his  calves  and  strokinor  his  knees  with  his  chin.  It'm 
de  trufh — haint  I  seed  dem  dark,  bad  sperrets,  hangin'  round 
doggeries,  an'  dem  low  places  w.har  de  Secesh  hab  dar  shindies, 
jess  ter  git  a  s?neU — on'y  a  little  s??ieU  ob  dat  ar  mis'able  stuff 
dey  call  Knock-em-stiff.  An'  dat  haint  no  sech  stuff  as  dis, 
Massa  Cap'n ;  taint  no  sech  stuff  as  dis,  I  shores  you,"  and 


THE    ARMY    CHAPLAIN.  79 

raising  his  mug,  which  he  had  slyly  filled  again,  he  drained  it 
to  the  bottom. 

"Shut  up,  Jule,  you  don't  know  any  thing  about  such  big 
gentlemen,"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

"  I  don't  know  nulfin  'bout  any  gernmen  whot  chaws  *  backer," 
rejoined  the  darky — who  seemed  to  be  a  privileged  character 
— *'  but  I  knows  lots  o'  cap'ns  whot  does  it,  and  does  it  so  bad 
dat  I'se  afeared  dey'U  neber  git  ober  it,  neber." 

"  Captain,"  exclaimed  the  Parson,  laughing  heartily,  "  I've 
told  you  Jule  is  too  smart  for  you.  But  come,  old  fellow,  hur- 
ry up  that  dinner — Fm  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

The  negro  slowly  picked  himself  up  and  waddled  out  of  the 
tent. 

*'Tliat  darky  is  no  fool,"  I  remarked,  when  he  had  gone. 

"No,  he  is  as  smart  as  any  white  man  I  ever  knew.  He's 
of  good  stock.  Though  dwarfed  and  misshapen,  he  has  every 
mark  of  good  blood  about  him,"  replied  the  Chaplain. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  good  blood  V  he's  as  black  as  mid- 
night."  . 

"  I  mean  he  has  a  fine  physical  organization — as  fine  as  a 
white  man's.  The  souls  of  all  men,  I  take  it,  are  essentially 
alike.  Men  differ  only  in  organization.  On  a  fine  organization 
the  spirit  acts  more  perfectly  than  on  a  coarse  one.  No  player 
can  get  as  good  music  from  a  poor  piano  as  from  a  good  one. 
This  accounts  for  the  inequality  of  mental  development  w?see 
among  men  and  races  of  men,  and  the  same  difi'erence  that  ex- 
ists amonor  the  white  races,  exists  amonfj  the  black.  Jule  is 
one  of  the  superior  grade." 

"  I  never  heard  that  theory  stated  before,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  I 
have  observed  that  the  negro  with  cucumber-shjped  shin,  bab- 


so  DOWN    IX   TENNESSEE. 

oon  head  and  face,  stooping  shoulder  and  long  heel,  is  inferior 
— greatly  so — to  the  one  (however  black  he  may  be)  of  erect 
and  well-formed  body,  straight  shin,  and  finely  developed  brain. 
I  have  known  many  of  these  last  that  I  have  thought  equal  in 
mental  and  moral  power  to  the  better  class  of  white  men." 

"  Equal  in  mental  and  superior  in  moral  power,"  said  the 
Parson.  "  It  is  useless  for  us  to  deny  it ;  the  better  races  of 
negroes  are  more  receptive  of  good  influences,  more  familiar 
with  the  inmost  experiences  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  trust ;  more 
suitably  organized  to  be  the  temples  of  the  Holy  Spirit  than  our 
own  race.  They  live  close  to  God,  are  truly  His  children  ; 
their  whole  souls  go  out  to  Him  in  prayer  and  worship,  and 
some  of  them  carry  a  halo  always  about  them,  as  if  they  daily 
saw  'the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  at  His  right  hand,'  " 

"Yes,  but  is  not  some  of  this  religious  exaltation  owing  to 
their  condition  ?  They  cling  to  Christ  because  he  is  their  all 
— they  have  literally  nothing  else." 

"  No,  I  think  not.  It  is  the  result  of  organization.  Day 
and  Martin  will,  without  doubt,  be  at  a  premium  on  the  '  other 
side  of  Jordan.'  If  St.  Peter  ever  lets  me  in,  I  reckon  it  will 
be  because  I  shall  hold  on  mighty  hard  to  the  coat-tail  of  some 
old  black  saint,  like  Julius  here.     Eh,  Jule  ?" 

"I -reckons  not,  Massa  Parson,"  replied  the  negro,  who  had 
re-entered,  and  was  loading  the  small  table  with  eatables.  "  I 
reckons  you  kin  git  in  fru  dat  ar  gate  wid  you'  own  legs  and  de 
grace  ob  God.  But  ef  you  can't — ef  ole  Peter  make  any  'jec- 
tion — Jule  '11  take  you  up  ahind ;  you  kin  git  up  dar  (touching 
the  huge  hump  on  his  back)  an'  ride  slap  inter  glory  like's  ef 
you  wus  drivin'  you'  own  six  boss  kerridge — you  kin,  Massa 
Parson — you  may  'pend  on  dat." 


THE    ARMY    CHAPLAIN.  81 

A  laugh  followed,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  we  sat  down  to  din-, 
ncr.  It  consisted  of  boiled  ham,  salt  pork,  corn  bread,  butter- 
milk, and  strawberries,  and  on  such  fare,  seasoned  as  it  was* 
with  hunger,  exercise,  and  pleasant  conversation,  T  made  a  most 
Iiearty  meal. 

"You  belabored  nigger  worshippers,  in  your  sermon,''  I 
said  to  the  parson  after  a  time ;  "  but  it  strikes  me  you're 
something  of  one  yourself." 

"  Xot  a  bit  of  one,"  he  replied  ;  *'  I  can  see  his  good  quali- 
ties, but  I  give  the  negro  precious  little  love  or  worship ;  the 
poor  white  man  has  all  my  sympathy,  and  he  needs  it  more 
than  the  black." 

"  I  know  he  is  low^er  in  intellect  and  morals  than  the  negro." 

"  Far  lower.  The  slaveocrats  have  enslaved  his  mind  as 
they  have  the  other's  body.  His  degradation  is  almost  past 
belief.  The  other  day,  I  was  strolling  out  a  little  way  be- 
yond our  lines,  and  came  upon  a  young  woman  sitting  in  the 
doorway  of  a  mean  hovel.  She  was  as  beautiful  as  Eve  before 
she  fell — as  beautiful  as  I  imagine  the  angels  are  who  bear 
parted  souls  to  Heaven.  She  had  long,  auburn  hair,  which  fell 
over  her  neck  like  a  veil  of  golden  gauze,  soft,  liquid  brown 
eyes,  and  features  that  sculptors  chisel  for  the  world  to  look 
at.  Raphael  had  a  dim  vision  of  such  a  face,  and  made  it  im- 
mortal in  the  Madonna.  She  sat  with  her  bare  legs  braced 
against  the  door-jamb,  and  a  little  higher  than  her  head  ;  and 
the  coarse  cottonade  gown  she  wore  disclosed  the  handsomest 
foot,  ankle,  and— shall  I  say  it,  Captain  ?"  and  he  paused  abrupt- 
ly, and  turned  to  that  gentleman. 

"Oh,  yes;  say  it;  never  mind  me,"  rejoined  the  Captain, 
with  mock  gravity. 
4* 


82  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

"Well  then,  tlie  haudsomest  foot,  ankle  and  kjiec,  that  can 
be  found  in  Tennessee." 

"The  Parson's  a  judge  of  beauty,  Sir,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  In  women  and  horses  he's  a  perfect  connoisseur.  He  adores 
a  handsome  form,  but  a  pretty  leg  enraptures  him." 

"And  why  shouldn't  it?  Woman  is  the  most  beautiful 
thing  in  creation,  and  a  pretty  leg  is  a  womanly  feature — but 
we'll  not  discuss  that.  As  I  approached  this  half-clad  beauty 
she  took  an  oTd  tobacco  pipe,  blacker  than  the  ace  of  spades, 
from  her  mouth,  and  said  to  me  :  *  Stranger,  howdy 'ge  ?  Ye 
haint  got  no  'backer  'bout  ye,  hes  ye  ?' 

"  I  pleasantly  told  her  I  did  not  use  tobacco,  when  she  put 
one  of  her  pretty  feet  to  the  ground  (there  was  no  floor  to  the 

cabin),  and  yelled  out :      '  Then  gwo  to ,'  the  hot  place  the 

Captain  occasionally  alludes  to — '  we  haint  no  use  for  no  sich  old 
saints  as  ye  is,  round  yere  I'  I  travelled  ofi"  at  double-quick, 
I  assure  you,  but  I  cursed  in  my  heart  the  men  and  the  system 
that  had  reduced  so  lovely  a  specimen  of  my  race  and  blood  to 
such  degradation." 

"  But  they  are  not  all  so  degraded,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  When  I  was  a  prisoner  last  fall,  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  them, 
and  one  of  them  aided  me  to  escape.  He  fought  like  a  hero  at 
Stone  River,  and  is  now  by  far  the  best  man  in  my  company." 

"  Come,  Captain  ;  tell  our  friend  your  adventures  with  Tom 
in  Secessia,"  said  the  Parson. 

The  Captain  assented,  and  his  story  will  be  found  in  the  next 
chapter. 


83 


CHAPTER  VII. 


"  It  is  not  much  of  a  story,"  said  the  captain,  drawing  his 
chair  away  from  the  table  and  lighting  a  huge  cigar ;  "  and, 
besides,  I  haven't  the  parson's  handy  way  of  dressing  up  a 
common  incident  so  as  to  make  it  fit  for  good  society ;  but 
such  as  it  is,  it  is  true." 

"  But,  Captain,  as  it's  Sunday,"  said  the  preacher,  smiling, 
"  suppose  you  leave  out  some  of  your  favorite  ornamental 
phrases  ;  truth  unadorned,  you  know,  is  adorned  the  most." 

"  Yes ;  but  if  you  strip  it  stark  naked  you  shock  modest  peo- 
ple. Why,  Sir,  if  I  used  as  many  oaths  in  my  talk  as  the  parson 
does  in  his  sermons,  I  should  expect  the  earth  to  open  and 
swallow  me,  as  in  ancient  times  it  did  that  old  secessionist, 
Korah." 

"  Come,  come,  you'll  make  your  story  like  the  parsonage  my 
folks  in  Illinois  built  for  me — all  porch  and  front-door.     Get 

into  it,  and  be  brief;  for  life  is  short — and  I  want  Mr.  to 

hear  some  of  Jule's  psalm-singing  before  he  goes." 

The  captain  handed  me  a  cigar,  took  a  long  whiff  from  his 
own,  and  without  noticing  the  preacher's  remark,  began  his 
story  : 

"  It  %vas  after  the  great  foot-race  between  Bragg  and  Buell, 
when   old  *  Slow-coach'  won   the   stakes — two   States   and — a 


84:  .  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

court-martial ;  and  we  soldiers  immortalized  ourselves  by  using 
our  lefys  instead  of  our  muskets.  I  was  stativ>ned  at  Gallatin  in 
defence  of  the  railway,  and,  being  short  of  fodder,  took  a  squad 
of  a  dozen  men  one  day,  and  went  out  on  a  foraging  expedition. 
I  had  sent  six  or  seven  wagon  loads  back  to  camp,  and,  with  the 
remaining  wagons,  was  scouring  the  district  around  Harts ville, 
when,  just  after  we  had  set  our  pickets  for  the  night,  about  two 
hundred  of  FoiTcst's  cavalry  came  suddenly  on  lis,  and  surrounded 
and  made  us  prisoners  before  we  had  even  time  to  run.  A  small 
party  took  us  in  charge,  and  striking  a  course  due  east,  made 
for  the  Knoxville  Railroad.  Nothing  worth  mention  occurred 
during  the  first  two  days.  At  the  close  of  the  second  we  reach- 
ed a  small  village  called  Crossville — consisting  of  two  houses,  a 
barn,  and  a  nigger  shanty — ^just  in  the  edge  of  Bledsoe  County, 
and  halted  for  the  night.  "VYe  took  supper  at  the  house  of  a 
well-to-do  planter,  of  the  name  of  Boylan,  who  gave  us  a  good 
meal,  and  was  very  courteous  to  the  Confederate  officer,  but, 
in  my  presence,  cursed  and  swore  at  the  Union,  and  the  '  Lin- 
kum  hirelings,'  hai'd  enough  to  have  shocked — the  parson.  The 
lieutenant,  who  was  a  social  fellow  and  a  gentleman,  pressed  me 
to  share  his  bed  at  the  house,  but  I  declined,  asserting — not 
very  mildly — that  I  wouldn't  sleep  under  the  roof  of  such  an 
old  reprobate  as  the  planter.  The  Rebel  officer  appreciated  my 
feeling,  and  lending  me  an  extra  blanket — for  the  night  was 
cold — consented  to  my  camping  out  with  my  men — which 
meant  sleeping  in  a  corn-field,  on  the  plouglTed  ground,  with  the 
sky  for  a  bedquilt.  The  boys  had  made  a  rousing  fire  of  pine- 
knots,  and  were  eating  their  suppers  near  it  when  I  joined  them. 
Spreading  a  blanket  on  the  ground,  and  seating  myself  before  the 
roaring  blaze,  I  lit  my  last  cigar,  and  fell  to  studying  '  Ayer's 


THE    captain's    STORY.  85 

Chcrrv  Pectoral  Almanac,'  a  copy  of  whicli  delightful  work 
had  somehow  lodged  in  the  pocket  of  my  overcoat.  I  was 
pondering  its  astrological  predictions,  when  a  long,  loose-jointed 
native  came  up  to  me,  and  said : 

"  Wall,  stranger,  yer  takiu'  it  powerful  cool,  bein's  yer  in  a 
purty  clus  fix." 

"  Not  a  very  close  fix,"  I  answered ;  "  there's  lots  of  room 
round  here." 

"  Yas,  lots  uv  it ;  but  ye  hain't  the  run  o'  the  ground — 
though  I  'spect  ye  would  run  ef  ye  hed  the  chance." 

"  I  reckon  I  would." 

"  Whot's  thet  yer  readin'  thar?" 

"  An  almanac." 

"  Almynac  !  Whot's  thet  ?" 

"  A  book  that  tells  all  about  the  weather;  when  it  will  rain 
and  when  it  won't.  A  man  that  carries  one  doesn't  need  an 
umbrella."* 

"  An'  do  it  tell  when  it  wull  be  fa'r  fur  shootin'  snipe  an' 
kotchin  eels  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  it  tells  all  that,  and  when  husbands  may  'look  out 
for  squalls.'     If  you've  a  wife  you  ought  to  have  one." 

"  I  hain't  morrid.  Number  one  ar'  bout  so  much  as  I  kin 
find  in  vittles.  But  thet  rnus'  be  a  raonstrus  nice  book ;  cf  I 
could  spell,  I'd  spill  a  quart  o'  humin  grease  ter  git  one." 

"  'T  would  be  worth  that;  but  here,  I'll  give  you  this.  You 
can  learn  to  '  spell '  it  somehow." 

"  With  a  look  of  stupid  surprise  he  took  the  almanac,  but  in  a 
moment  handed  it  back,  saying,  '  I  doan't  mean  ter  'pose  on 
ye,  stranger,  beca'se  yer  kotched  in  the  tedders  (tethers).  I 
hain't  no  sech  sort  o'  man,  no  how." 


86  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  You'll  not  impose  on  me  ;  you're  welcome  to  it.  Make 
your  preacher  learn  you  how  to  read  it." 

"  Lord  bless  ye,  the  parson  doan't  know  how  no  more'n  I 
does.  Ye  see  we  hain't  no  schules  round  yere  ;  an'  ef  we  hed, 
pore  men  karn't  pay  no  fifty  dollar  a  yar  ter  guv  thar  childerlngs 
larnin'.  Dad  an  '  I,  'fore  them  dinged  Fed' rate  rags  got  so 
thick  in  the  kentry,  nuver  seed  five  dollar'  from  un'  yar  eend  ter 
'tother.     Bat,  I  say,  wouldn't   ye  larn  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  I'd  be  glad  to  ;  but  I  go  off  in  the  morning." 

"  But,  'spose  we  gwoed  off  tergedder,"  and  he  sunk  his  voice 
to  a  whisper  ;  "  ter  night — fru  the  bush — up  thar — plumb  ter 
Xashville." 

I  looked  steadily  at  him.  There  was  truth  in  his  face,  and 
in  a  low  tone  I  asked :  '•  To  the  death  ?" 

"Ter  the  death,  stranger,"  and  he  gave  me  his  hand;  "  I'll 
draw  a  jug  uv  knock-em-stiff  on  the  soger,  an'  ye  kin  mosey 
off  'fore  the  moon  ar  up.     The  boss  '11  holp  us." 

«  Who  is  the  '  boss  V  " 

"  The  old  man  thar,"  pointing  to  the  house. 

"  Why,  he's  a  red-hot  Rebel." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  He  do  come  the  Rebel  powerful  strong,  but  thet's 
put  on.  He'd  guv  the  dingnation  consarn  a  doze  of  collermy 
an'  joUerp  thet  would  clean  out  thar  hull  innards,  ef  he  could; 
but  he  durn't  do  it  open.  He's  afeard  o'  pullin'  hemp,  an' 
kingdom  come.  Now,  ef  whot's  said  'bout  the  kingdom  ar  true, 
I'd  a  durned  sight  ruther  take  my  chance  thar,  nur  yere ;  fur, 
yere  ye  see,  a  pore  man  haint  no  sort  o'  showin';  put  thar  he'll 
hev  a  right  smart  chance  uv  gittin'  to  be  somebody." 

"  No  doubt  he  will.  All  the  promises  of  the  Bible  are  to  the 
poor  man."     (That  wasn't  original ;  I  had  it  from  the  parson.) 


THE    captain's    story.  8T 

He  then  went  to  the  planter's  house,  and  returned  in  a  short 
time  with  a  gallon  jug  of  whiskey.  Commg  directly  to  me,  he 
said  in  a  loud  tone ;  "  I  say,  Leftenant "  (I  wore  only  one  bar 
on  my  shoulder-straps  then),  "  take  a  swig  ter  warm  yer  innards." 

As  I  poured  out  the  liquor,  he  whispered : 

♦'  The  old  -un'  say  ye  mus'  put  plumb  fur  the  branch ;  it'r 
'bout  half  a  mile  frum  yere — measured  with  a  coonskin,  an'  the 
tail  throwM  in.  Foller  it  up  'bout  as  fur — the  water's  low,  an' 
ye  mus'  gwo  inter  it,  ease  they  moight  git  the  dogs  outer  yer 
trail — an'  ye'U  come  to  a  dade  tree  whot  bends  over  the  run. 
It's  holler,  an'  ye  kin  git  inter  it  an  stay  thar  agin  I  come,  as 
snug  as  a  bar  in  a  snow-bank.  I'll  prime  the  guard  with  knock- 
em-stiflf — ye  be  along — an'  when  I  shouts  '  Glory,  glory,'  twice, 
as  ef  the  raal  camp-meetin'  power  war  on  me,  ye  put  fur  the 
bushes  on  yer  ban's  an'  feet,  like  a  wurrura ;  an'  when  ye  gits 
thar,  pike  off  like  lightnin'  chasin'  a  whirlygust"   (hurricane). 

"  I  understand  ;  but  be  cool  and  steady." 

"  Cool  ?  I'll  be  cooler  nur  Parson  Plewit  when  death  jerked 
him ;  an'  they  say  he  war  so  cool  he  fruz  the  whole  grave-yard 
so  tight  they  hed  ter  thaw  it  out  with  light'ood." 

Our  camp  was  guarded  by  about  a  dozen  sentinels,  who  re- 
lieved each  other  every  six  hours.  The  one  whose  station  was 
nearest  the  bushes  that  lined  the  northern  side  of  the  corn-field, 
had  built  a  fire  of  pine-knots,  and  every  now^  and  then  halted 
before  it  as  he  walked  to  and  fro  on  his  round.  My  way  of 
escape  lay  through  those  bushes,  and  to  enable  me  to  reach  them 
unobserved  my  new  friend  would  have  to  engage  this  sentry  at 
the  fire  long  enough  to  "  prime"  him  so  "  tight"  that  he  would 
be  oblivious  to  my  movements.  "This  seemed  no  ordinary  under- 
taking, for,  aside  from  the  difficulty  of  luring  him  from  his  duty 


88  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

on  the  beat,  the  sentinel  was  a  tough,  raw-boned  Kentnckian, 
who  looked  wliiskey-proof,  and  capable  of  "totein'  a  peck  of 
licker."  But  no  time  could  be  lost.  It  was  already  nine 
o'clock,  and  guard  would  be  relieved  at  twelve ;  so  the  native  set 
himself  at  once  about  his  spiritual  labors. 

Approaching  the  fellow,  jug  in  hand,  he  asked  him  to 
drink,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  had  so  worked  on  his 
affection  for  knock-cm-stiff,  that  the  Kentnckian  was  seated 
cosily  hobnobbing  with  him  on  a  log  before  the  fire.  A  greasy 
pack  of  cards  was  soon  brought  out,  and  they  went  into  euchre, 
seven-up,  and  high-low-jack,  every  now  and  then  relieving  the 
card-playing  with  a  horn,  and  one  of  the  toughest  yams  that 
mortal  man  evei:  listened  to.  For  a  long  time  it  seemed  doubt- 
ful which  would  conquer  in  this  keen  encounter  of  wits,  for 
though  Long  Tom — that  is  the  name  he  goes  by — is  an  incor- 
ricrible  wag,  and  "  immense"  at  telling  a  story,  the  Kentnckian 
was  no  green  hand  at  the  business.  They  each  seemed  to  own 
a  patent  for  lying,  and  to  be  running  their  inventive  machines 
with  no  regard  to  probability,  credibility,  or  possibility.  At 
last,  when  Tom  had  told  of  killing  a  "  sarpunt"  whose  body 
was  as  large  round  as  a  "  whiskey-kag,"  and  stretched  across  a 
bridcje  thirty  feet  wide,  with  "  ten  foot  lappin'  outer  the  road," 
the  Kentnckian  shook  his  head,  and  rather  sadly  exclaimed : 
"  Jewhitiker!  Thet  war  the  most  oncomraonest,  rantankerous 
snalvC  I  uver  yered  on.     I  guv  it  up." 

"  Ye  mought  as  well,"  said  Tom,  with  infinite  composure, 
"  fur  he  war  a  most  outdacious  sarpunt." 

But  all  this  time  little  progress  had  been  made  in  getting  the 
sentinel  boozy.  Mug  after  mug  of  clear  "  blue  ruin"  had  gone 
down  his  throat  (and  Tom's  shirt-collar),  with  no  more  apparent 


THE   captain's    STORY.  89 

eifect  on  him  than  if  bis  stomach  had  been  of  cast-iron.  At 
last  twelve  o'clock  came,  and  witli  it  the  relief-guard.  When  1 
saw  him — another  tough,  raw-boned  Kcntuckian — approach, 
hope  fled,  and  a  heavier  feeling  came,  at  my  heart  than  was  ever 
there  before.  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  liberty,  and  captivity 
seemed  the  drearier  for  it.  However,  hiding  my  disappoint- 
ment, I  turned  to  go  to  where  the  boys  were  sleeping,  when 
Tom  shouted  out : 

"Mr.  Leftenant,  doan't  ye  be  a  moseyin'  off,  we'se  the  hull 
night  afore  us.  The  world  warn't  made  in  one  day  ;  it  tuck 
six.  I'll  git  some  more  licker,  an'  make  ye  as  snug  as  a  bar 
in  a  snow-bank,  yit." 

Giving  the  last  of  its  contents  to  the  new-comer,  he  then  took 
the  jug  under  his  arm  and  "  moseyed  off''  to  the  house,  while 
the  relieved  sentry  again  quietly  seated  himself  on  the  log. 
The  latter  evidently  meant  to  levy  on  the  fresh  supply  of  ''sper- 
rets,"  and  I  saw  with  consternation  that  my  undaunted  friend 
would  have  to  perform  the  almost  impossible  exploit  of  "  floor- 
ing" two  "  double-lined,"  "fire-proof,"  Kentucky  "  whiskey-swil- 
lers"  at  once. 

Tom  soon  reappeared  with  the  jug  and  three  extra  mugs — 
the  previous  drinking  had  been  done  from  one — and  filling 
them  to  the  brim,  said,  looking  very  hard  at  me :  "  Now,  let 
me  guv  ye  a  toast.  Yere's  ter  Jeff.  Davis,  an'  may  he  live  so 
long  as  the  Lord'll  let  him." 

"  I  can't  drink  to  that,"  I  said,  setting  dowm  my  mug. 

"  Xo  more'n  ye  karn't,  Left^enant !  I  nuver  thort  o'  thet,  so 
no  'fence.  But,  bein's  the  toast's  out,  'spose  ye  drink  ter  the 
next." 

I  took  his  meaning  at  once.     lie  had  drugged  the  liquor. 


90  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

The  cards  were  again  brought  out,  but  what  "knock-era-stiif" 
could  not  do,  laudanum  soon  began  to  accomplish.  The  new- 
comer was  the  first  to  show  its  effects.  He  played  somewhat 
wildly  for  a  time,  then,  swaying  unsteadily  on  the  log,  rolled 
heavily  off  to  the  ground.  The  other  kept  his  seat  a  while 
longer,  but  when  Tom,  plying  him  with  a  second  "  swig," 
swung  his  mug  around  his  head  and  cried,  "  Glory  !  glory  !" 
he  followed  his  "  departed  friend,"  and  sunk  into  a  sleep  that 
"  knows  no  waking"  for  a  half  dozen  hours. 

Giving  me  a  strong  grasp  of  the  hand,  the  native  pointed  to  the 
bushes.  Wrapping  the  blankets  about  me  (the  lieutenant's, 
I  confiscated),  and  taking  a  last  look  at  the  boys — it  came  awful 
hard  to  leave  them — I  lowered  myself  on  my  hands  and  knees, 
and  crawled  to  the  fence.  I  reached  it  without  detection,  and  soon 
arrived  at  the  branch,  up  which  I  waded,  as  directed  by  the  native. 

The  moon  was  just  rising  when  I  came  upon  the  hollow  tree, 
and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  its  opening.  Its  interior  was 
fully  eight  feet  in  diameter,  the  trunk  being  a  mere  shell,  and 
was  covered  with  a  thick  flooring  of  decayed  wood.  On  this  I 
spread  one  of  the  blankets,  and  wTapping  myself  in  the  other, 
lay  down  to  rest.  The  excitement  'of  the  escape,  and  the  long 
ride  of  the  previous  day,  had  so  fatigued  me  that  I  soon  sank 
into  a  deep  slumber.  How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know,  but 
when  I  awoke  the  day  was  "  about  an  hour  by  sun,"  and  a  small 
army  of  men  and  dogs  were  howling  outside  of  my  retreat,  as 
if  a  legion  of  infernal  devils  had  been  let  loose  about  me. 

"  I  tell  you  he  has  waded  either  up  or  down  the  run,". said  a 
voice  I  recognized  at  once  as  that  of  the  Rebel  lieutenant ;  "  the 
dogs  don't  track  him  over  there.  He  must  have  hid  somewhere 
near  the  stream." 


THE    captain's    STOKY.  91 

"  Lord  bless  ye,  Leftenant,  them  dogs  liain't  wutli  atctocious 
d — n.  They  nuvcr  nosed  niithin  more'n  thar  dinners.  A  man 
as  wus  pikein  fur  the  Union  lines,  'ud  run  streter  nur  a  scared 
wolf,  rd  plank  salvation  agin  a  jack-knife  thet  his  legs  is  a 
dancin'  a  hurricane  up  thar,  on  Jim  Potter's  deadnin'  (clearing) 
bevont  the  mounting,  at  this  pertic'hir  minnet." 

I  httld  my  breath  in  torture.  I  have  heard  a  thousand  bul- 
lets whistling  about  me  without  feeling  the  agony  of  suspense  I 
endured  during  the  next  five  minutes.  Soon,  however,  the 
voices  died  away,  and  before  many  hours  I  heard  the  faint  bay- 
ing of  the  hounds  miles  off  upon  the  "  mounting."  Tom  had 
saved  me  ! 

When  the  danger  was  over  I  lay  down,  and,  overcome  with 
the  excitement,  again  fell  asleep.  It  was  dark  when  my  shoul- 
der was  touched  lightly,  and  Tom  whispered  in  my  ear :  "  It  ar 
time  ter  be  a  moseyin'  off,  Leftenant.  H — 11  mought  be  tall 
lodgin's  ef  the  fire  war  out,  but  it  ar  too  hot  fur  us  jest  now." 

I  rose,  and  partaking  of  a  hearty  meal  and  fortifying  myself 
with  a  liberal  glass  of  brandy — the  planter  had  furnished  us  with 
a  gallon  jug  of  genuine  "  Otard," — sallied  from  my  place  of  con- 
cealment. We  struck  directly  for  a  wood,  half  a  mile  distant, 
and  worked  our  toilsome  way  over  rocks  and  through  under- 
brush and  laurel  bushes  all  the  night.  In  the  morning  we  lay 
down  by  the  side  of  a  fallen  tree  and  went  to  sleep.  Tom  had 
brought  provisions  enough  to  last  for  two  or  three  days,  by 
which  time  he  hoped  we  should  be  clear  of  the  neighborhood  in 
which  he  was  known,  and  where  the  danger  of  detection  was 
greatest.  Travelling  by  the  woods,  however,  was  slow,  and  if 
we  kept  to  them,  our  supplies  would  be  exhausted  before 
we  reached  the  safer  district  of  countrv.     That  night,  there- 


92  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

fore,  we  took  to  the  high  road.  We  walked  till  the  sun 
rose  without  meeting  any  one,  and  then  "camped  out"  in  the 
bushes.  For  two  more  days  and  nights  we  did  the  same,  and 
then  had  arrived  within  twenty  miles  of  Nashville.  Our  provis- 
ions having  then  given  out,  Tom,  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing, made  a  descent  on  a  planter's  smoke-house  and  supplied  our 
larder  with  two  enormous  hams.  As  he  threw  them  into  the 
thicket  where  I  lay,  he  said  to  me : 

"  Won't  them  infernal  nigs  kotch  it  fur  stealin'  these  critters. 
It'll  sarve  'em  right ;  they  orten't  ter  blong  tcr  no  such  durned 
hide-bound  secesh." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  is  a  secessionist  ?" 

"By  the  taste  o'  the  bacon.  Ye  nuverknow'd  no  sech  hog's- 
flesh  as  thet  ter  be  curu  by  a  honest  Union  man.  Why,  it'r 
strong  'nuff  ter  knock  ye  down,  an'  tough — it'r  tougher  nur  the 
yarns  dad  used  ter  tell  us  boys  uv  cold  nights,  in  the  old  shanty 
on  the  dead'nin'." 

In  the  impatience  of  his  hunger  he  had  cut  a  slice  from  one 
of  the  hams  with  his  jack-knife,  and  eaten  it  raw  on  his  way  to 
"  camp."  A  fire  would  have  betrayed  us,  so  I  drew  out  my 
knife,  and  followed  his  example.  The  meat  was  rather  rancid 
and  very  tough,  but  I  never  before  tasted  any  thing  half  so  pal- 
atable. Hunger  is  a  wonderful  condiment.  It  has  made  me 
think  a  sirloin  of  mule  superior  to  the  finest  steak  ever  broiled. 

We  lay  close  through  the  following  day,  but  the  next  even- 
inof,  before  the  sun  was  well  down — we  were  within  twentv  miles 
oi freedom^  and  impatient  to  get  to  it — carrying  the  hams  under 
our  arms,  we  resumed  our  journey.  We  took  to  the  highroad, 
but  had  not  proceeded  a  mile  before  we  met  six  men  coming 
briskly  towards  us.     One  was  dressed  as  a  Confederate  sergeant, 


THE     captain's    STORY.  03 

• 

and  had  a  gun  on  bis  shoulder ;  the  others  wore  the  ordinary 
homespun  of  the  district,  and,  having  no  arms,  seemed  fresh  re- 
cruits. Avoiding  them  was  out  of  the  question,  so,  cocking  our 
pistols  in  our  pockets  (Tom  had  confiscated  the  revolvers  of  the 
two  sentinels  while  they  lay  senseless  on  the  ground),  we  went 
boldly  forward.  They  eyed  my  uniform  very  closely,  but  merely 
saying,  "  Good  cvcnin',"  passed  us  quietly.  They  had  not  gone 
two  hundred  yards,  however,  before  I  heard  the  report  of  a  mus- 
ket, and  felt  a  sharp,  burning  sensation  in  ray  right  side,  near 
the  shoulder.  The  infernal  sergeant  had  shot  me  !  His  ball 
entered  at  my  back,  and,  making  a  half  circle,  lodged  on  my 
breast-bone. 

Tom  turned  like  an  aroused  panther,  and  sprang  down  the 
road  after  them,  firing  his  revolver  as  he  ran.  He  overtook  one, 
and  brained  him  with  his  pistol-stock,  but  the  rest  escaped.  In 
the  mean  time  I  was  bleeding  profusely.  I  took  out  my  hand- 
kerchief and  attempted  to  staunch  the  blood,  but  could  not.  I 
sat  down  on  a  stone  by  the  road-side,  and  tried  to  look  death  in 
the  face,  but  somehow  death  wouldn't  be  looked  in  the  face.  1 
was  bleeding  at  a  rate  that  in  a  few  hours  would  drain  every 
drop  of  blood  from  my  body,  but  I  could  not  realize  that  I  was 
to  die — then — there — only  twenty  miles  from  Freedom  ! 

Tom,  returning  in  a  few  minutes,  said  to  me  : 

"  Them  fellers  wuU  raise  the  deestrict,  Lefteuant,  an'  all  Secesh 
wull  be  arter  us  in  no  time.  We  mus'  take  ter  the  woods,  and 
feed  on  hope  an'  tough  ham  till  the  whirlygust  ar  over." 

"  Tom,"  I  said,  "  I'm  badly  hurt ;  too  badly,  I  fear,  to  go  any 
further.  You  take  care  of  yourself.  You  can  escape  ;  leave  me 
here  ;  they'll  take  me  prisoner,  but  it  will  be  ray  best  chance 
to  got  at  a  doctor." 


94  DOWN    IX   TENNESSEE. 

"  Hurt !  Blisters  and  blamenation,  so  ye  is  !"  be  exclaimed, 
tearing  open  my  coat,  and  examining  the  wound.  "Quick,  Lef- 
tenant !  guv  me  yer  wiper — I  hain't  nary  one,  I  allers  does  thet 
bizness  the  nat'ral  way.  We  must  stop  thet  ter  onst — ter 
oust." 

Taking  my  handkerchief,  he  saturated  it  with  the  brandy,  and 
bound  it  tightly  about  my  side.  Then,  squatting  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  he  said  :  "  Git  up  thar,  back  uppermos',  and  lay  flat 
as  a  fritter.     It'll  holp  the  bleedin'." 

I  submitted  myself  quietly  to  him,  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
coursing  over  the  open  ground  which  lay  between  the  road  and 
the  thick  belting  of  woods  we  had  recently  left,  with  a  gait  as 
firm  and  easy,  and  almost  as  fast,  as  that  of  ray  mare  Bess.  As 
he  went  along,  he  every  now  and  theii  broke  out  with  some  ex- 
clamation like  the  following  :  "  Whot  d — n  tetocious  villuns  ter 
hit  a  man  in  the  back.  D— n  'um  !  -They  wus  horned  in  to- 
phet,  an'  they'll  git  thar  agin,  yit.  I'll  holp  'em  on  the  way.  I 
wull !  Leave  ye,  Leftenant  ?  Ye  doan't  'spose  Tom's  a  secesh  ? 
— dinged,  rottin-souled,  blue-blasted,  son  uv  a  Rebel,  does  ye  ? 
No  !  He's  wuth  ye,  Leftenant — ter  the  death — ter  the  death. 
Didn't  he  say  it,  an'  d'ye  uver  know'  Tom  ter  guv  his  word 
an'  broke  it."  Then,  as  he  paused  to  draw  breath,  he  added  : 
"Yer  more'n  a  y'arlin'  baby,  but  nuver  ye  fear;  I  hain't  gin 
out ;  I  kin  outrun  creation  yit,  an'  guv  it  two  mile  the  start." 

And  I  think  he  could  have  done  so,  for  in  an  incredibly  short 
time  he  set  me  down  at  our  camping-ground  of  the  previous 
night.  Gathering  some  dried  leaves  for  a  mattress,  and  cover- 
ing me  with  a  blanket,  he  looked  again  at  my  wound.  The 
bleeding  had  sensibly  diminished,  and,  when  more  brandy  had 
been  applied,  and  I  had  rested  a  while  in  a  horizontal  position. 


95 

it  ceased  altogether.     When  he  was  satisfied  I  was  out  of  im- 
mediate danger,  he  said  to  me  : 

"  I  leff  thet  ar  bacon  an'  the  'tother  blankets  'side  the  road, 
an'  I  mas'  git  'em,  Leftenant,  or  we's  gone  up.  I  couldn't  gwo 
it  twice  ter  one  smoke-house — the  old  coon'll  be  watchin'  on  it 
ter  night." 

"  But  wait  till  it's  fully  dark.     It  won't  be  safe  to  go  now." 

"  Safe  now  as  uver ;  an'  'sides,  I'se  afeard  o'  the  dogs.  Ef 
the  varmunts  shud  nose  them  traps,  we  might  as  wull  say  our 
pray'rs  ter  onst.  An'  bein's  thar  hain't  more'n  'un  chance  in  a 
thousan'  uv  thar  not  hev'n  done  it,  s'pose  ye  be  gittin'  a  pray'r 
a'ready,  Leftenant— a  right  smart  long  'un,  thet'll  do  for  both 
on  us,  fur  I's  'mazin  pore  at  thet  sort  o'  bizness." 

"  But,  Tom,  if  we're  in  such  danger — go  ;  secure  your  own 
safety  while  there's  time.  You  can  do  no  more  for  me  ;  so — go, 
at  once." 

"  Gwo^  Leftenant  ?  Tom  nuver  flinched,  or  showed  his  back 
ter  a  friend.  Ef  the  thing  ar  up  with  us,  we'll  see  it  out  terged- 
der,  loike  men.  I  hain't  no  way  purticler  'bout  gwine  ter  king- 
dom-come jest  yit,  bein's  I'd  loike  ter  guv  them  ar  rantankerous 
rebels  a  leetle  h — 11  fust,  but — ef  ray  time  ar  come ;  ef  the  Lord's 
callin'  fur  me,  as  the  parsons  say — why,  I'm  a'ready  ;  an'  I  know 
IIe  wont  ax  me  in  ter  the  rare  door,  fur,  though  I'se  pore,  an' 
ign'rant,  an'  no  sort  o'  'count  ter  nary  one  in  all  creation,  He 
knows  I  nuver  hed  no  showin' — thet's  I'se  done  the  best  I 
could." 

As  he  said  this  his  voice  was  as  low  and  soft  as  a  woman's, 
with  an  inexpressible  sadness  in  it  which  brought  the  tears  to 
my  eyes.     I  grasped  his  two  hands,  as  I  replied  : 

"  God   bless  you,  my  friend  !     You're  the    noblest   man  J 


96  DOWN    IX   TENNESSEE. 

ever  knew.  If  I  die,  my  last  breath  shall  be  a  prayer  for 
you." 

He  made  no  reply,  but,  turning  away,  dashed  off  through  the 
bushes. 

His  voice  choking  with  emotion,  the  captain  paused  at  this 
point  in  his  narrative,  and  the  parson  remarked  : 

"  He  is  a  noble  fellow,  Mr. ,  and  I  don't  wonder  at  the 

captain's  attachment  to  him  ;  but  Tom's  affection  for  the  cap- 
tain is  something  not  often  seen  in  this  work-day  world.  I  be- 
lieve no  mortal  ever  felt  such  devotion  for  another  as  he  feels  for 
him." 

"  Oh  yas,  dey  hab,  Massa  Parson  ;  7'se  seed  it ;"  exclaimed 
the  old  black,  who  had  resumed  his  seat  on  the  ground  ;  "  My 
young  massa,  he  got  morrid,  an'  de  fuss  munfh  he  feel  like  he'd 
eat  his  wife  up ;  but  de  second  munfh — he  wish  ter  de  Lord  he 
bed." 

"  Speak  when  you're  spoken  to,  Jule ;"  said  the  parson,  re- 
straining his  inclination  to  laugh,  and  trying  to  look  stern. 

"  And  give  me  a  mug  of  whiskey  toddy,  you  old  joker,"  added 
the  captain,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Dar  hain't  anudder  drap,  Massa  Cap'n,"  replied  the  negro, 
with  a  demure  face.  "  You's  drunk  ebery  drap,  ebery  bressed 
drap,  Massa  Cap'n." 

"  I  have  had  but  two  mugs,  you  old  toper.  You  have  drunk 
it  yourself.     How  much  have  you  had  ?" 

"  Not  more'n  six,  Massa  Cap'n  ;  an'  dat  hain't  nuffin  ob  sech 
stuff  as  dis  ;  you  knows  dat,  Massa  Cap'n." 

"  No,  not  for  you  :  but  get  some  more  at  once.  This  black 
Christian,"  he  added,  turning  to  me,  "  can  stand  liquor  enough 
to  float  a  ship." 


THE    captain's    STORY.  97 

"  But  lie's  not  to  blame  for  the  habit,"  I  said,  laughing.  *'  It's 
'  one  cf  the  result.*  of  slavery,'  eh,  Parson  ?" 

"  I  reckon  it  is,"  replied  the  preacher,  joining  in  the  general 
merriment ;  "  but  Jule  never  gets  drunk.  However,  his  habit  is 
a  little  expensive  to  us,  as  the  rapacious  sutlers  make  us  pay  five 
dollars  a  bottle  for  decent  whiskey.  But,  Captain,  go  on  with 
your  story,  or  you'll  not  get  through  to-night." 

*'  The  next  hour,"  resumed  the  captain,  "  was  the  longest  I 
ever  knew ;  but  it  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  Tom  reappeared 
with  the  blankets  and  bacon.  A  party  of  a  dozen  men,  evi- 
dently in  pursuit  of  us,  were  passing  down  the  road,  when,  on 
his  hands  and  knees  he  reached  it ;  but  they  did  not  perceive 
him,  and  having  no  dogs,  did  not  detect  our  *  camp  equipage.' 

"  Again  dressing  my  wound,  and  wrapping  the  remaining 
blankets  about  me — for  the  air  grew  very  chilly  as  the  night 
wore  on — my  companion  sat  down  on  the  fallen  log,  in  the  lee 
of  which  T  was  lying,  and  appeared  to  fall  asleep.  My  wound 
had  grown  very  painful,  and  I  Avas  tossing  uneasily  about,  un 
able  to  rest,  when,  at  the  end  of  several  hours,  he  raised  his  head, 
and  said  to  me  : 

"Leftenant,  I  luck'd  round  a  leetle  when  I  went  fur  the  traps, 
an'  thar  hain't  no  house'n  nigher'n  three  mile,  'cept  thet  durned 
Bccesher's  thet  I  stole  the  bacon  frum.  Ye'll  die  ef  ye  doan't 
git  under  kiver.     What  shill  we  do  ?" 

"  Pray,  Tom  ;  I  know  the  Lord  will  lead  us  put  of  this,  if  we 
ask  Him  aright." 

"  Then,  'spose  ye  tries  yer  hand  at  it,  Leftenant ;  ye's  more 
larnin',  an'  yer  a  better  man  nur  me." 

"  Learning  is  not  needed  in  asking  of  God.     He  sees  the 
faintest  wish  of  the  heart,  and  he  grants  it  to  his  children." 
5 


98  DOWN    IX    TENNE&SEK. 

("  Preaching  is  not  my  profession,"  said  the  captain,  paren- 
thetically ;  "  but,  near  as  I  then  was  to  death,  I  felt  very  solemn, 
and  I've  no  doubt  I  could  have  beaten  the  parson  at  his  own 
trade,  and  given  him — as  Tom  would  say — two  in  the  game.") 

*'  Wall,  ef  wishin'  ar  prayin',  Leftenant,"  replied  Tom,  "  I'se 
bin  a  prayin'  this  whole  blessed  night — uver  sence  I  seed  ye'd 
got  a  hole  inter  ye  thet  moight  let  the  life  out.  But  the  Lord 
doan't  yere  me — I  doan't  see  no  way  out  o'  this  but  gwine  ter 
thet  durned  hide-bound  secesher's,  an'  thet  'ud  nuver  do, 
nohow." 

"  But  you  don't  know  that  he  is  a  secessionist," 

"  Yas  I  does.  I'd  swar  ter  it  on  the  bacon  ;"  and,  heaving  a 
deep  sigh,  he  went  to  musing  again. 

The  night,  though  I  thought  it  would  never  end,  at  last  wore 
away,  and  the  sun  came  in  through  the  trees.  It  had  been  up 
about  two  hours,  and  was  warming  even  ray  cold  bed  under  the 
laurel  leaves,  when  a  voice  directly  over  me  suddenly  exclaimed : 
"  Wh — wh — whot'm — you — doin'  down  dar  ?" 

It  was  a  tall,  stalwart  negro  man,  who  had  come  upon  us 
from  the  side  to  which  Tom's  back  was  turned.  The  latter  was 
in  a  gentle  doze,  and  did  not  hear  his  approach,  but  the  moment 
the  black  spoke  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  seizing  him  by  the 
collar,  cried  out :  "Ye  black  thundercloud  !  whot  does  ye  want 
yere  ?" 

The  negro  made  no  reply,  but,  drawing  back,  aimed  a  heavy 
blow  at  the  native's  face.  Tom  caught  it  on  his  arm,  and  step- 
ping aside,  and  making  no  effort  to  return  it,  said  with  amaz- 
ing coolness : 

"  Come,  none  o'  thet,  ur  I'll  lay  ye  out  without  ben'fit  o' 
clargy.     We's  friends  ter  all  sech  black  devils  like  ye ;   so  sot 


thl:  captain's  story.  99 

down  yere  an'  tell  us  who  ye  is.  Sot  ye  down/'  he  added,  as 
the  black  showed  a  disposition  to  disregard  his  injunction: 
Sot  ye  down  !  or  I'll  lanini  ye  till  yer  wliiter  uur  Squire  Robins' 
old  mar,  an'  she  war  so  white  ye  couldn't  sec  har  by  daylight, 
fur  the  fact  wus — she  war  dead." 

The  negro  sat  down.  "  Thet's  a  sensible  feller,"  siud  Tom, 
"  Now,  whar  d'ye  b'long  ?" 

"  Ter  Squar  Gibbon,  ober  dar,"  replied  the  black,  pointing 
sulkily  in  the  direction  of  the  planter's. 

''  An'  didn't  ye  lose  two  hams  tVum  the  smoke-house  las' 
night?  an'  didn't  the  squar  guv  it  ter  ye  nigs'  loike  blazes 
this  mornin'  fur  a  stealin'  on  'em  ?" 

"  Yas,  he  done  dat,  Massa." 

"  San-ed  ye  right.  It'll  larn  ye  better'n  ter  steal  agin.  Ilain't 
yer  massa  a  durned  old  secesh?" 

"  He  am  dat,  Massa,  nuffin'  else  nur  dat,"  replied  the  negro, 
grinning. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  ye,  Leftenant  ?"  cried  Tom,  in  a  triumphant 
tone,  giving  one  of  the  hams  a  contemptuous  kick,  "  Didn't  I  tell 
ye  I  know'd  it  by  the  taste  o'  the  bacon  ?" 

•  The  darky  looked  at  the  hams ;  and  a  sudden  light  seemed 
to  break  upon  him,  for  he  shouted  out,  "Yah!  yah!  an'  did 
yoii  stole  de  bacon,  Massa?  Did  yott  done  dat,  Massa?  Yah  ! 
yah  !" 

"Xo,  we  didn't  stole  it;  white  men  doan't  steal;  only  ye 
cussed  nigs  does  thet.     We  kornfiscated  it." 

The  black  looked  at  us  as  if  he  didn't  know  the  exact  ditTer- 
ehce  between  stealing  and  confiscating;  but  he  said  nothing. 
Tom  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  for  a  moment ;  then,  looking 
up,  said  to  the  negro  : 


100  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  I  say,  thmidergust,  whicli'll  ye  take — death  or  yer  freedom  ?" 

"  I  doan't  'zactly  understand,  Massa,"  replied  the  blaclc,  with 
more  coolness  than  he  could  have  been  expected  to  exhibit  under 
Tom's  eye,  which  startled  even  me  with  its  fierceness. 

"  I  meaii  thet  we  is  Union  men,  'scapin  ter  the  lines  ;  an'  thet 
we'll  take  ye  'long,  an'  guv  ye  yer  freedom,  ef  ye'li  holp  us  ;  an' 
kill  ye^  if  ye  ivoan''t.      Thet's  all." 

"  I'll  holp  you,  Massa.  Ef  you'm  Union  I'd  do  ut  widout 
ony  freedom,  but,  ob  course,  Massa,  I'd  rudder  hab  dat." 

"  Uv  course  ye  w'ud  ;  ony  fool  w'ud.  Whot  der  ye  think, 
Leftenant  ?     Kin  we  trust  the  nig  ?" 

"  I  think  so  ;  I  like  his  face,"  I  replied. 

"  So  does  I.  But,  my  black  booty,  ye  jest  'count  on  it,  ef  ye 
come  the  varmunt  over  us  ye'll  kotch  fryin'  pans  over  a  slow 
fire  :  ye  wull.     Wull  ye  'member  thet  ?" 

"Oh,  yas,  Massa.  But  neber  you  far,  Massa,  I'll  be  true. 
Shore,  Massa." 

"  I'll  trust  ye,"  said  Tom,  at  once  proceeding  to  talk  affairs 
over  with  the  darkv.  AVe  ascertained  from  him  that  the  dis- 
trict was  filled  with  Union  men,  who  would  gladly  aid  us,  but 
thev  all  lived,  at  too  great  a  distance  to  be  safely  reached-  in 
my  wounded  condition.  A  poor  white  man,  however,  who 
could  be  trusted,  had  a  small  "  dead'nin'  "  about  a  mile  away, 
and  to  him  we  determined  to  apply.  The  negro  set  off  at  once 
for  his  house — which  stood  on  a  narrow  wagon  track  running 
through  the  woods — and  in  about  an  hour  returned  with  the 
native. 

He  was  an  odd-looking  specimen  of  humanity,  with  a  le'kn, 
gaunt  frame,  round,  stooping  shoulders,  short,  crooked  figure ; 
long,  bony  arms,  and  knees  that  seemed  to  love  each  other.     His 


THK    captain's    8TOKY.  101 

eyes  were  small  and  restless ;  his  nose  long,  thin,  and  hooked  at 
the  end  ;  and  his  ears  large  enough  to  have  been  intended  for  a 
quadruped  renowned  for  braying.  *  He  wore  a  pair  of  pants  made 
of  butternut  linsey,  a  coat  and  shirt  of  the  same  material,  and  an 
old  broad- brimmed  slouched  hat,  turned  up  in  front,  and  falling 
over  his  shoulders  like  the  cape  of  a  Mackintosh. 

He  at  ^ once  consented  to  receive  me  into  his  house,  and  to 
keep  me  until  my  wound  was  sufficiently  healed  to  allow  of  my 
again  setting  out  for  Nashville.  "  I'se  mighty  pore  fixins,  stran- 
ger," he  said  ;  "  but  whot  I  lies  ar'  yourn,  ter  komand." 

My  wound  had  become  greatly  inflamed,  so  that  the  least  mo- 
tion gave  me  excruciating  pain,  and  attempting  to  rise,  I  found 
myself  too  weak  to  stand.  Perceiving  this,  Tom  and  the  negro, 
making  a  seat  of  their  arms,  took  me  up  and  carried  me  to  the 
native's.  His  cabin  was  of  the  meanest  sort,  and,  for  etFectual 
concealment,  my  bed  was  made  in  one  corner  of  its  half-floored 
attic  ;  but  his  kindness,  and  that  of  his  tidy,  tender-hearted  wife, 
with  Tom's  never-ceasing  attention,  made  those  mean  lodg- 
ings as  pleasant  as  quarters  under  a  much  more  pretentious 
roof. 

As  soon  as  I  could  bear  the  pain,  Tom  extracted  the  ball  with 
his  jacJk-knife  ;  but  my  strength  returned  slowl}-.  It  was  ten 
days  before  I  could  sit  up.  Then  I  gave  Tom  his  first  lessons 
in  the  alphabet,  putting  Ayer's  Almanac  to  a  much  better  use 
than  it  was  ever  put  to  before. 

Aftheend  of  a  fortnight  we  held  a  general  consultation  over 
aSairs,  and  decided,  as  it  might  be  weeks  before  I  was  able  to 
travel,  that  Tom  should  attempt  to  make  his  way  to  Nashville, 
with  letters  to  my  colonel.  They  would  probably  induce  him 
to  send  a  party  of  cavalry  to  my  rescue. 


102  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

Tom  reached  Nasliville  safely,  and  just  after  dark  one  evening, 
about  a  week  afterward,- 1  was  gladdened  by  the  sound  of  his 
voice  entering-  the  cabin.  In  a  moment  more  his  good-looking 
face,  lit  up  by  the  blaze  of  the  roaring  light-wood  fire  on  the 
hearth  below  stairs,  shone  out  at  the  top  of  the  rickety  ladder 
which  led  to  my  lodging  place.  "I'se  done  it,  Leftenant,"  he 
cried.  "  They's  over  ter  Squire  Gibbon's,  kornfiscatin'  Jake  an* 
a  fasshoss  an'  kerridge.  They'll  be  yere  in  a  jiffin,  so  ye  be  up 
an'  ready." 

I  soon  dressed  myself,  and  mounting  Tom's  back,  descended 
to  terra-firma.  In  half  an  hour  I  heard  the  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs,  and  turning  to  my  kind  friends,  said  :  "  I  have  been  a 
prisoner,  you  know,  and  therefore  have  no  money  about  me  ;  but 
I  shall  not  forget  you — you  shall  not  go  unrewarded." 

"  Xuver  tork  in  thet  how,  Gunnel,"  replied  the  native.  (He 
persisted  in  calling  me  colonel,  though  he  knew  my  rank.) 
"Yer  guvin'  yer  life  ter  the  kentry,  an'  it  war  a  rantankerous- 
shame  ef  we  couldn't  guv  ye  whot  leetle  ye's  hed." 

I  said  no  more,  but  grasping  him  by  the  hand,  and  kissing 
his  wife — she  was  a  young  and  pretty  woman — I  walked  to  the 
door  and  took  a  seat  by  the  side  of  Jake,  the  colored  man,  in 
the  "  kornfiscated"  buggy.  A  "  kornfiscated"  horse,  ready  sad- 
dled, stood  beside  it.  Tom  mounted  him  and  we  rode  off  to 
Freedom.  We  reached  Nashville  before  daybreak,  and — that 
is  the  end  of  my  story.'* 

"  Give  the  captain  some  punch,  Jule,"  said  the  parson  ;  "  he 
must  be  dry  after  spinning  so  long  a  yarn." 

As  the  captain  took  the  toddy  I  said  to  him :  "  And  you  say 
Tom  is  a  member  of  your  company  now  ?" 

*!*  Yes,  he  enlisted  with  me  as  soon  as  I  recovered  from  my 


THE  captain's  story.  103 

wound.     At  Stone  River  he  fouglit  like  a  hero,  and  when  tliey 
promoted  me,  they  gave  him  a  shoulder-strap." 

"  Then,  he's  an  officer  now." 

"  Second  Lieutenant  in  my  company.  His  tent  isn't  half  a 
dozen  rods  from  here." 

"  Indeed,  I  should  very  much  like  to  know  him.  He  is  a 
character." 

"  And  a  wag  of  the  first  water,"  said  the  parson  ;  "  if  you 
talk  with  him,  and  don't  keep  your  wits  about  you,  he'll 
'  sell'  you,  sure." 

"  I'll  look  out  for  that.     Pray  let  mc  see  him." 

The  Captain  went  out,  and  in  a  few  moments  returned  with 
the  "  native."  My  interview  with  him,  and  some  of  the  yarn- 
he  spun,  are  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


104  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


THE    POOR    WUITE    MAN. 


There  are  two  classes  of  poor  southern  whites,  of  marked 
and  decidedly  opposite  characteristics.  The  type  of  the  one  is 
of  low  stature,  with  abbreviated  body,  elongated  arms  and  legs, 
dull  heavy  eyes,  coarse  carroty  hair,  saffron-hued  skin,  and  a 
small  head,  shaped  like  a  cocoa-nut.  The  type  of  the  other  is 
tall,  and  well  formed,  with  a  gaunt,  loose-jointed  frame,  a  rough 
dark  skin,  wiry  black  hair,  keen  restless  eyes,  and  an  artless, 
confiding  manner,  which,  with  a  certain  air  of  self-possession, 
indicates  that  he  knows  little  of  the  world,  but  feels  fully  able 
to  cope  with  what  little  he  does  know.  The  first  is  physically 
and  intellectually  a  "  bad  job,"  and  it  might  sensibly  be  ques- 
tioned why  he  was  created,  for  he  appears  incapable  of  either 
mental  or  moral  culture  ;  but  the  other  possesses  all  the  "  raw 
material"  of  manhood — and  manhood,  too,  of  the  noblest  type. 
Education,  discipline,  social  advantages,  and  political  freedom 
are  needed  to  bring  out  his  nature,  but  when  it  is  brought  out 
he  shows  himself  a  Man.  The  first  class,  who  are  few  in  num- 
ber, and  fast  melting  away  before  the  advance  of  a  stronger  race, 
and  a  more  robust  civilization,  are  found  principally  on  the  Sand- 
hills of  North  Carolina,  and  in  the  mountain  regions  of  Lower 
Virginia  and  Upper  Georgia.  There,  a  little  above  "  the  brutes 
that  perish,"  and  a  "long  way  lower  down  dan  de  darkies,"  they 
build  their  pole  cabins,  and  glean  a  sorry  subsistence  from  hunt- 


THK    POOR    WHITE    MAN.  105 

ing,  fishing,  and  a  few  sterile  acres.  The  other  class,  who  are 
counted  by  millions,  and  are  scattered  from  the  Potomac  to  the 
Rio  Grande,  are  the  bone  and  sinew  of  tlie  South,  the  prop  of 
Slavery,  and  the  hope  and  expectation  of  Freedom,  for  on  them, 
more  than  on  immense  armies  or  garrisoned  cities,  will  depend 
the  safety  and  perpetuity  of  tke  Union.  An  unprincipled  aris- 
tocracy has  robbed  them  of  knowledge,  and  moulded  them  to 
its  own  base  uses,  but  whenever  truth  has  reached  them  they 
have  shown  an  unselfish  devotion  to  it,  and  to  the  Union,  which 
we  time-servers  and  monev-lovers  of  the  North  know  nothins: 
"f.  In  East  Tennessee,  where  Parson  Brownlow  has  been, 
their  great  apostle,  and  The  KnoxvUle  Whvj  their  Bible  and 
spelling-book,  they  have  exhibited  a  heroic  patriotism  which  the 
world — I  say  this  with  a  very  small  smattering  of  histor}' — has 
seldom  witnessed.  The  deeds  they  have  done,  the  sacrifices 
they  have  made,  the  sufferings  they  have  endured  for  a  Govern- 
ment which  has  closed  its  eyes  to  their  sorrows,  and  its  ears  to 
their  complaints,  will  be  read  of  and  wondered  at,  when  this 
generation  has  passed  away.  Their  story  is  not  yet  told", 
but  when  it  is  told,  many  a  cheek  will  mantle  with  shame — as 
mine  has — to  hear  of  what  these  poor,  unlettered  men,  women, 
and  children  have  done  and  suffered  for  their  country,  while  we 
have  been  growing  fat  on  its  necessities,  and  looking  idly  on,  as 
it  seemed  tottering  to  its  ruin. 

From  this  latter  class  sprang  Patrick  Henry,  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son, Andrew  Jackson,  Henry  Clay,  John  C.  Calhoun,  Andrew 
Johnson,  Parson  Brownlow,  President  Lincoln,  and — Long  Tom, 
whom  "  the  captain"  told  the  reader  something  about  in  my 
last  chapter. 

The  "  native"  gentleman  entered  the  tent  with  a  quick,  ener- 
6* 


106  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

getic  step,  and  bowing  respectfully  to  the  parson,  and  giving  me 
a  grasp  of  the  hand  and  a  cordial  "  How  dy'ge,  stranger?"  turn- 
ed suddenly  on  the  old  negro,  with : 

''  Wall,  old  thundcrgast,  how's  ye  ?" 

"  I'se  well  'nuff,"  replied  the  black,  giving  his  shoulder  a  pet- 
ulant shrug. 

"  Go  to  the  colonel's,  Jule,  and  borrow  a  chair  for  the  lieuten- 
ant," said  the  captain. 

The  negro  glanced  inquiringly  at  the  parson,  but  seeing  no 
answering  look  in  his  face,  turned  his  head  away,  and,  again 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  rephed  : 

'"Leffhira  gwo  hisseff;  Jule 'tends  on  gemmen:  he  doan't 
'tend  on  no  poo'  white  trash — he  doan't." 

"  Thet's  yer  Christun  sperret,  ye  black  hyppercrit,"  rejoined 
the  native,  laughing,  and  at  the  same  time  drawing  the  captain's 
traveling  trunk  from  the  corner,  and  seating  himself  upon  it. 
"  One  of  these  days  I'll  show  ye  how  we  white  Christuns  guvs* 
good  fur  evil,  fur  I'll  tend  on  ye — I'll  hury  ye  !  an  I  woan't  pile 
more'n  six  inches  o'  sile  on  yer  bones,  so  yo'll  hev^  a  right  easy 
time  gittin  up  ter  the  resumrection." 

As  the  "  native"  took  his  seat  I  glanced  at  his  appearance. 
He  seemed  some w4i ere  between  twenty-five  and  thirty,  and  was 
about  six  feet  three  inches  high,^with  well-formed  limbs,  finely 
developed  frame,  clear,  dark  eyes,  and  a  broad,  full  forehead. 
His  face  was  open,  frank,  and  manly,  and  there  played  about  it 
a  mingled  expression  of  kindness  and  sadness,  which  was  strange- 
ly blended  with  a  latent  mirth,  that  seemed  ready  to  break  out 
on  the  slightest  provocation. 

As  he  seated  himself  he  turned  to  me,  and  in  an  abrupt,  en- 
ergetic tone,  said : 


TUE    POOR    WHITE    MAN.  107 

"  Wall,  strang-cr,  the  capt'n  scz  ye'd  loikc  tor  luck  at  me  ;  so, 
I's  yere.  Ts  six  foot  three,  Avitliout  leathers,  weigh  a  hun'red 
an' ciLrhty,  kin  whip  twice  my  heft  in  Secesh,  bars,  or  rattlesnake >^, 
an'  nvry  inch  on  nic  ar  yoiirn  ter  komand,  ef  ye  gwoes  in,  body 
an'  boots,  fur  the  Union  ;  an'  the  capt'n  reckons  ye  does,  though 
he  sez  ye  gwoes  it  the  talkin',  an'  not  the  fightin'  way :  an'  I 
ruther  'spcct  ye  Yankees  'ud  gin'rally  'bout  as  lief  talk  as  fight.'* 

''  I  Iiad  much  rather,"  I  replied,  laughing  ;  "  but  I  reckon  ijou 
k might  do  a  little  talking,  if  you  tried." 

"  My  old  muther  allers  said  I  hed  suthin'  uv  a  tongue.  She 
use  ter  'clare  ter  gracious  it  war  huncj  in  the  middle,  an'  hed  a 
way  uv  gwine  at  both  eends ;  an'  yet  somehow,  it  nuver  done 
me  no  good.     But  whar  dy'ge  b'long,  stranger  ?" 

*'  In  Xew  York." 

"  Oh,  yas,  I's  beam  uv  thet  place.  Up  thar  Nurth,  clus  ter 
the  Nurth  Pole,  hain't  it  ?" 

"  Xot  very  close  to  the  Pole,  but  in  that  direction." 

"  An'  hes  ye  uver  seed  the  Nurth  Pole  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  saw  it,  but  I  believe  there  is  such  a  thing," 

"  An'  whar  mought  it  be  ?" 

"  It  '  mought'  be  here,  but  it  is'nt ;"  I  replied,  smiling 
"Boston  is  the  'hub  of  the  universe' — I  reckon  it's  there." 

**  It  mus'  be  a  rantankerous  Pole.  IIow  big  d'ye  'spose  it 
ar'  ?  Big  as  thet  ar  maple  ?"  pointing  to  the  tree  under  which 
the  parson  had  preached  his  sermon,  and  which  was  visible 
from  the  doorway  of  the  tent. 

"Larger  than  ten  of  that  placed  one  on  the  other,  and  spliced 
at  top  and  bottom." 

"  Jerusalamm  !  but  it  ar  a  pole  !  D'ye  know  I's  made  out 
whot  the  yerth  has  s^ch  a  thing  fur  ?" 


108  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  No,  why  is  it  ?" 

"  Fur  steerin' !  I's  bin  on  the  Big  Drink  (Mississippi)  an' 
seed  how  they  does  it.  But,  Parson,  it  upsots  whot  ye  sez 
'bout  the  yerth  bein'  round." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  the  chaplain,  laughing ;  "  and  if  the 
earth  isn't  round,  how  is  it  shaped?" 

"Loike  a  steambut,  ter  be  shore,"  replied  the  native,  with  a 
gravity  so  well  assumed  that,  for  a  time,  it  deceived  even  the 
parson;  "hain't  ye  seed  them  ar  big  poles  '  at  the  fore'  as 
they  call  it,  uv  the  buts  on  the  Big  Drink ;  an'  how  them  fellers 
at  the  wheel  plumbs  thar  course  by  'em.  Xow,  ef  the  yerth  hev' 
un'  o'  them,  doan't  it  nat'rally  fuller  thet  it's  shaped  loike  a 
steambut  ?  An'  I  knows  it  ar',  'case  I's  bin  whar  I  c'ud  luck 
slap  down  over  the  side,  right  outer  the  most  relarrain',  purpin- 
diclar  presurpiss  ye  uver  seed,  even  in  yer  dreams." 

Amid  the  general  laugh  which  followed,  I  asked  : 

"And  how  did  you  get  a  sight  at  that 'relarmin',  presur- 
piss' ?" 

"I'd  tell  ye,  but  it'r  a  mighty  long  story." 

"  Never  mind  its  length,  Tom,"  said  the  chaplain,  "  tell  it." 

"  Wall,  ye  sees,"  said  Tom,  taking  a  '  swig'  at  the  toddy, 
and  coolly  lighting  one  of  the  captain's  cigars ;  "  I  war  a 
livin'  long  uv  dad,  over  thar  inBladsoe,  wharl  war  raised  ;  an' 
un'  mornin'  dad  sez  ter  me,  sez  he,  '  Tom,  hitch  up  the  two-yar- 
old  he'ffer,  an'  fotch  a  load  o'  light-'ood  frum  the  mounting.' 
Now,  dad  hed  a  small  dead'nin'  up  thar  thet  we  wus  a  clarin' 
uv  timber ;  so  I  hitched  up  the  cow-brute,  an'  piked  fur  the 
mounting.  I'd  wuckd  till  'bout  a  hour  by  sun,  an'  hed  got  the 
cart  chock  heapin'  with  pine  knots  an'  timber,  when  I  sot  down 
onter  it  ter  eat  up  whot  war  left  uv  my  dinner — fur  I  kuow'd  ef 


THE    POOR    WHITE    MAN.  109 

I  tuck  it  hum,  an'  dad  seed  it,  my  supper'd  be  brevuratcd  jest 
50  much.  Wall,  I  war  jest  a  swolleriu'  down  the  last  mossol, 
when,  thinkin'  it  war  'bout  time  tor  be  a  hitchin'  up  the  heifer, 
I  lukM  round,  an'  whot  d'ye  'sposc  I  seed  I  Two  on  the  most 
oncommonest,  riproarin'  big  cart-wheel  snakes  ye  uver  hcarn  ou 
in  all  yer  borned  days,  an'  they  pikin'  stret  fur  me  !" 

"  And  what  is  a  cart-wheel  snake  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  it  ar  a  sarpunt  'bout  twelve  foot  long,  thet  hes  a  way 
uv  kotchin'  its  tail  in  its  mouth — leavin'  a  small  eend  out  fur  a 
snapper;  an'  crackin'  on  it,  when  it  travils,'jest  loike  we  cracks 
a  whip — an  then  roalin'  itself  over  the  ground  loike  it  war  a  cart- 
wheel. \Val],  I  seed  them  ar  two  outdacious  varmunts  a  comin' 
outer  me,  an'  I  sez  ter  myself:  '  Tom,  you  hain't  got  no  fambly 
— an'  thct's  'mazin'  lucky  fur  the  fambly — but  as  a  lone  critter,  as 
yer  Arnt  Sal  useter_say  uv  herseff,  ye'r  gone  up,  sartin'.  An'  I 
thort  I  war,  but  the  Lord  know'd  better,  fur  he  seed  this  war 
wus  a  cummin',  an'  he  know'd  I'd  be  uv  some  use  in  guvin' 
the  Rebels — brimstun.  Ye  sees.  Parson,  I's  a  larnin'  ter  leave 
out  the  tough  words." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  the  chaplain;  "you're  improving  fast  in 
everv thins:  but — Ivintr." 

"  Lyin',"  echoed  Tom,  in  an  injured  tone,  "I  nuver  lied  in 
all  my  born  days — 'cept  ter  Stun  River ;  an'  thar  I  lied  fur  two 
all-fired  long  nights — in  the  mud  up  ter  my  knees.  Ye  'scaped 
thet  sin,  Parson,  'case  ye  hed  brush  fur  beddin'." 

"  And  I  had  you  to  thank  for  it.  Tom,  you  are  a  trump — tha' 
very  Jack  of  clubs." 

"  Thank  ye.  Parson.  I  sots  high  on  yer  'pinion  'bout  uvry- 
thing  'cept  boss  flesh  ;  but  in  thet,  I  does  'sist — agin  the  capt'n 
— thet  ye  doaut  know  a  mule  from  a  pile  o'  light-'ood.     Bat 


110  DOWN    IN   TEXXESSEE. 

'bout  them  snakes.  They  come  stret  at  me,  an'  Incldn'  me  sqiiar 
in  the  eye  fur  a  minnit,  licked  thar  big  jaws  with  thar  forked 
tongues,  as  much  as  ter  say  :  '  Yell  make  a  right  nice  mossel, 
ye  wull,'  an'  then  kilcd  themselves  right  tight  round  tlie  cart- 
wheels. I  didn't  'spicion  whot  they  wus  a  gwine  'bout,  fur, 
'lowin'  rd  make  a  right  smart  meal  fur  'um,  I  didn't  see  whot 
yerthly  use  they  hed  fur  the  light-'ood.  Howsomever,  they 
know'd  best,  an'  in  less  time  nur  it  takes  to  tell  it,  they'd 
hitched  upy  an',  with  the  hull  apparitus — cart,  light-'ood,  an'  all 
— war  tossin'  thar  heads,  an'  crackin'  thar  whips,  an'  moseyin' 
fur  sundown  streter  nur  lightin'  uver  shot  from  a  thunder- 
cloud. Ye'd  better  b'lieve  they  traviled.  They  piked  over  the 
roads,  an'  through  the  clarin's,  buckletewhit,  splittin'  the  a'r  clean 
in  two,  an'  leavin'  a  tornado  we  kotched  up  with  so  fur  ahind 
thet  I  reckon  it  haint  got  tharyit." 

"  But  how  did  they  manage  the  shafts  of  the  cart  all  this 
time  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  should  think  they  would  have  caught  in 
the  bushes." 

*'  Oh,  the  snakes  knowed  too  much  fur  thet ;  they  turned  the 
cart  clean  round,  and  toted  it  hind  eend  afore." 

"  They  were  sensible  snakes  !" 

"  Ye  nuver  said^a  truer  word  nur  thet,  stranger.  Wall,  as  I 
sot  thar,  gwine  to'ards  sundown  at  thet  relarmin'  rate,  with  thet 
bore-constructor  sort  uv  a  team,  I  jest  hed  time  ter  think,  an' 
sez  I  ter  myself:  'Tom,  ye  haint  much  larnin',  but  ye  is  a 
t)utdacious,  dingnation,  nat'ral-borned  fool,  ef  ye  karn't  outwit 
two  sech  flat-noggin  sarpunts  as  these  is.'  I  hedn't  more'n  got 
the  words  oufn  my  mouth  when  the  new  moon  riz  up  'bove  the 
hoorizon,  right  afore  me,  an'  not  more'n  a  mile  off,  with  its  two 
horns  a  stickin'  out,  as  much  as  ter  say :     '  Now,  Tom — new's 


THE    POOR    WHITE    MAN.  Ill 

ycr  cliaiico.  Jest  guv  a  long  leap ;  git  up  ycre,  an'  take  a  tower 
clar  round  creation  fur  nuthiu'.'  I  did'ut  need  more'n  tbet 
hint,  so  I  squatted  on  my  haunches  fur  a  jump,  an'  when  we'd 
come  within  a  quarter  uv  a  mile  uv  the  moon,  I  guv  a  spring, 
an',  d'ye  b'lieve  it,  I  landed  right  squar'  on  tlie  leetle  eend  uv 
one  uv  the  horns.  The  snakes  they  run  out  thar  tongues,  an' 
spit  fire  a  leetle,  but  seeiu'  it  warn't  no  use,  they  turned  squar' 
round,  piked  back  ter  the  deadin',  and  left  the  cart  right  whar 
they  found  it." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  the  snakes  had  a  use  for  the  light 
wood  ?"  I  remarked,  with  decent  gravity. 

"  Wall,  they  hed ;  they  kalkerlated  on  it  fur  cookin'  my  car- 
cass; but  bein's  I'd  skedaddled,  they  toted  it  back,  like  honest 
snakes,  as  they  wus.  ' 

"  And  then  you  saw  that  uncommon  '  presurpiss  V  "  asked  the 
parson. 

"  Yas,"  answered  Tom.  "  As  the  moon  sailed  'way  frum  the 
yerth,  I  lucked  down ;  an'  Parson,  ye'd  better  b'Heve  it,  I  seed 
a  more  abysfuller  place  than  ye  uver  told  on  in  all  yer  sarmunts. 
'Twar  so  deep  it  'peared  ter  stretch  ter  the  vury  eend  uv  crea- 
tion, an'  so  dark,  ye  raoight  hev  read  fine  prent  in  it  by  the  light 
o'  sech  a  black  thing  as  Jule's  face." 

"And  how  long  did  you  sit  there  on  the  horn  of  the  moon  ?" 

"  Why,  bless  ye,  stranger,  it  warn't  no  horn  at  all.  It  w^ar 
on'y  the  small  eend  uv  a  church  steeple,  that  riz  up  nineteen 
raile  frum  the  ground,  an'  stuck  out  jest  fur  anuff  fur  me  ter 
ketch  a  hold  on  as  I  wus  a  gwine  by." 

"  Then  there  are  people  living  in  the  moon  ?" 

'•'  I  reckon  thar  is,  an'  the  tallest  people  ye  uver  heered  on. 
I  doan't  mean  tall  in  statur' — fur  they  haint  much  ter  brag  on 


112  D'JWN   IN   TENNRSSEK. 

thet  way,  an'  I  war  a  sort  o'  curiosity  'mong  'era,  on  'count  uv 
my  liite — but  tall  uvry  other  how.  They  showed  me  more 
hosspetality  then  I  uver  'spect  ter  see  agin ;  toted  me  round  in 
a  rantankerous  big  kerridge  shaped  je>t  loike*a  cufBn ;  an' 
treated  me  ter  mint-juleps  'nuff  ter  flood  all  creation  in  the 
driest  spell  ye  uver  know'd  on." 

"An'  Mister  Tom,"  said  the  old  black,  who  had  listened  to 
the  "native's"  yarn  without  moving  a  muscle  of  his^broad  lace, 
which  seemed  made  for  grinning.  "  Bein's  you's  bin  dar,  will 
you  hab  de  goodness  ter  say  whot  dem  ar  dark  places  am  dat 
we  sees  in  de  moon  ?" 

"  Nigger  kentries,  Mr.  Midnight,"  replied  Tom,  promptly. 
"They  doan't  kt  darkies  'sociate  with  white  folks  up  thar. 
They  hard  (herd)  'uni  all  tergether,  an'  thar's  so  many  on  'em 
they  make  the  air  black  as  a  thunder-cloud,  which  is  the  reason 
why  we  sees  'um  frum  yere.  An'  we'll  do  the  same  with  ye  nigs 
in  thiri  wurle  when  the  war  ar  over.  We'll  turn  yer  hull  race  inter 
South  Car'lina,  an'  I  reckon  ye'U  blacken  the  a'r  down  thar  so 
loike  durnation  thet  they'll  obsarve  it  'way  off  ter  the  fui-drest 
eend  uv  the  uuivarse,  an'  see  thar's  been  a  rev'liition  down  yere 
thet's  altered  the  very  face  o'  the  planet." 

The  black  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously  as  he  re- 
plied :  "  Whot  fools  ye  poo'  white  folk  kin  make  o'  yourselves. 
Loike  as  ef  Tennessee  nigs  'ud  'sociate  wid  dem  white  trash  an' 
mean  chivarly  dovN'n  dar  in  Soufh  Car'lina.  You  knows  better'n 
dat — we  hain't  got  so  low  as  dat  yit." 

"  And,  Tom,"  1  asked,  "  how  long  were  you  on  the  moon,  and 
how  did  you  get  off?" 

"  I  karn't  'zactly  say  how  long  I  war  thar,  case,  ye  see,  thar 
hain't  no  clocks  on  thet  planet,  nur  no  Yankees  ter  make  'um  :" 


•  THE    POOR    WHITE    MAN.  113 

and  he  looked  slyly  at  me,  while  the  parson  broke  into  a  broad 
laugh,  saying : 

"  You  owe  him  one,  Mr.  ." 

''  I  acknowledge  the  debt,"  I  replied  ;  "  but,  Tom,  can  no 
one  but  a  Yankee  make  a  clock  ?" 

"  No  'uns  but  them  kin  make  'oodeu  nutmegs,  bass'ood  hams, 
an'  clocks  thet  woant  gwo.     They  makes  uuthiu'  else." 

"  That  mc\v  be  true,  my  good  fellow  ;  but  they  make  them 
expressly  for  the  southern  market.  No  other  people  are  green 
enough  to  buy  them." 

"  Wall,  stranger,  I  reckon  I  owes  ye  one  now,  I  nuver  know'd 
nary  uther  Yankee  but  onst,  an'  he  war  'bout  so  smart  as  ye  is, 
fur  he  sold  dad  a  clock.     Shill  I  tell  ye  'bout  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  finish  the  rhoon  story  first." 

"  It  hain't  a  minnet  long,  an'  I  kin  eend  the  moon  in  a  jiften. 
Ye  sees,  dad  hed  nary  clock,  an'  couldn't  tell  when  the  sun  riz 
— he  hed  a  great- reespect  fur  the  sun,  nuver  got  up  afore  it  in 
all  his  life — so,  when  a  peddler  come  'long  with  a  whole  wagin- 
load  uv  clocks,  he  war  drefful  put  tert  ter  hev  one.  They  wus 
the  eight-day  kine,  all  painted  up  slick,  an'  worronted  to  gwo  till 
the  eend  uv  time.  The  peddler  axed  ten  dollar  fur  'um,  an' 
dad  hedn't  but  three.  I  hed  two  thet  I'd  bin  a  savin'  up,  an' 
dad  wanted  ter  borre  'um,  but  I  wouldn't  a  lent'um  ter  him  ter 
save  his  soul,  fur  I  know'd  he'd  nuver  pay  in  nuthin'  but  prom- 
izes,  an'  fur  his  age,  dad  war  the  most  promiziu'  man'ye  uver 
know'd  on.  Wall,  I  buttoned  up  my  pocket,  and  dad  eyed  the 
clocks;  an'  sez  he  ter  the  peddier :  '  Stranger,  I'd  loike  'uu  uv 
them  mightily,  but  rocks  is  sca'ce,  jest  now  ;  I  hain't  got  on'y 
three  dollars  in  the  wurle." 

"  Hain't  ye  1"  said  the  peddler ;  '  wall  thet's  a  all-fired  pity  ; 


114:  DOWN  IX  ten:n"essee.  • 

but  bein's  ye's  a  monstrus  nice  sort  o'  man,  an  bein's  I  allers 
kind  o'  took  ter  sech  folks  as  ye  is,  ye  kin  hev  a  clock  fur  yer 
three  dollars.  But  I  wouldn't  sell  'un  ter  nary  uther  man  for 
thet  money,  nohow.' 

"  Wall,  dad  tuck  the  clock,  and  the  peddler  tuck  the  money 
and  mosey'd  off." 

"  Dad  sot  druffel  high  on  thet  clock.  He  took  on  over  it 
fur  all  the  wurle,  jest  like  a  chile  over  a  new  playthin'.  He  got 
up  airlier,  an'  sot  up  later  then  I  uver  know'd  him  afore,  jest  ter 
yere  it  strike,  but  arter  a  few  days  it  stopped  strikiu',  an'  nuver 
struck  agin  I  Dad  wus  sold — an'  sold,  too,  by  a  rantankerous 
Yankee;  an'  dad  allers  'counted  (but  mind,  stranger,  I  doan't 
guv  this  as  my  'pinion)  thet  a  Yankee  ar  a  leetle  the  measliest 
critter  in  all  creation.  Wall,  not  more'n  a  month  arter  thet,  as 
dad  an'  I  wus  a  wuckin'  in  the  corn  patch  'un  day,  who  shud 
come  'long  the  road  but  the  Yankee  peddler.  As  soon  as 
dad  seed  him  he  sez  ter  me,  sez  he  :  *  Bullets  an'  blisters,  Tom ! 
but  thar's  thet  outdacious  Yankee  !  Now,  ef  I  doan't  strike  bet- 
ter time  on  his  noggin  then  his  dingnation  clocks  uver  struck  in 
all  thar  lives,  I'll  pike  sti-et  fur  kingdom-come,  ef  I  hes  ter  gwo 
afoot."  Bilin'  with  wrath,  dad  moseyed  fur  the  peddler ;  but  he 
hedn't  more'n  got  inside  'o  hearin',  'fore  the  Yankee  bawled  out : 
*I  say,  Mister,  ye's  got  a  clock  as  b'longs  ter  me.  It  woan't 
gwo,  an'  I  want's  ter  get  it,  an'  guv  ye  'un  as  wull  gwo.  I  bed 
jest  'unload  one  in  the  lot,  an'  I'se  bin  a  sarchin'  fur  it  'mong 
nigh  outer  a  hun'red  folks  I'se  sold  clocks  ter,  an  hain't  found 
it  yit,  so  ye  mus'  hev  tucken  it ;  I  knows  ye  did,  case  I  sees  it  in 
yer  eye.' 

"  That  mellored  dad  ter  onst,  an'  ter  own  the  truth,  it  guv  me 
a  sort  o'  good  'pinion  uv  the  Yankee.     Wall,  dad  and  he  swopped 


THE    rOOR    WniTE    MAN.  115 

clocks,  an'  the  peddler  staved  ter  dinner — an'  the  old  man  'udnt 
take  a  red  fiir't,  he  war  so  taken  with  him.  As  he  wus  a  gwine 
ter  leave,  the  peddler  opo'd  the  hind  eend  uv  his  wai^in,  an'  takin' 
out  a  peck  measure,  lieapin'  full  of  whot  'pearcd  the  tallest  oats 
thet  uver  grow'd,  he  sez  ter  me,  sez  he :  'Tom,  ye  an'  yer  farder 
hes  bin  'mazin  clever  ter  me,  an'  I  nuver  loikes  ter  be  obligated 
tor  no  body,  so  yere's  some  o'  the  finest  plantin'  oats  ye  uver 
know'd  on ;  take  'um  ;  they'll  grow  ye  a  monstrous  tall  crop,  as 
•big  as  oak  trees.' 

"  Now  ye  sees,  I  hed  a  four-year-old  mar  I'd  a  raised  up  with 
my  own  ban's.  I  sot  drcfful  high  on  bar,  an'  she  got  drefful 
high  on  oats,  an'  I'd  bin  a  savin'  up  them  two  dollars  s'pressly 
ter  buy  seed  ter  make  a  crap  fur  her  privat'  eatin'.  So,  wlien  I 
seed  them  oats  o'  the  peddler's  they  filled  my  eye,  loike  the 
camel  filled  the  eye  of  the  needle- in  Scriptur'.  He  hadn't  guv'n 
mc  'nufF  ter  gwo  no  distance  in  plantin',  but  bein'  he  war  so 
gen'rous  loike,  I  couldn't  ax  him  ter  guv  more,  so  I  sez  ter  him  : 
*  Stranger,  wouldn't  ye  sell  a  bushel  o'  them  oats  ?' 

"  '  Wall,  Tom,'  he  sez  ;  '  bein's  it's  ye,  an'  ye  an'  yer  farder 
is  sech  monstrous  clever  folk,  I  doan't  know  but  I'd  sell  ye  the 
whole  on  'um,  fur  the  fact  ar'  they's  too  hearty  loike  fur  my  boss ; 
ye  see  the  feller's  got  a  sort  o'  weak  stomach,  an'  can't  'gest  'um. 
I  guess  thar's  nigh  on  ter  five  bushel,  an'  bein's  they  hain't  uv  no 
use  ter  me,  ye  shill  have  the  whole  on  'um  fur  them  ar'  two 
dollars  o'  yourn.'  Xow,  I  figger'd  on  my  fingers,  an'  foun'  thet 
warn't  more'n  forty  cents  a  bushel;  an'  oats,  sech  as  war  raised 
in  our  diggins,  an'  they  warn't  no  way  nigh  so  nice  as  them — 
went  fur  sixty,  so  ye  kin  reckon  I  tuck  'um,  an'  ye  mought 
Vlieve  it  rained  big  blessiii's  on  thet  peddler  'bout  the  time  he 
dniv  off.     He'd  altered  my  'pinion  o'  the  Yanks'  'pletely,  an'  I 


116  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

tole  him  he  orter  make  hisself  inter  a  wild  munag'ree,  an  travil  the 
whole  southin  kentry,  jest  ter  show  folk  whot  the  Yankees  raaly 
is  ;  fur  I  know'd  ef  he  done  it  they'd  swap  thar  'pinions  jest  as 
I  hed,  an'  thet  ye  know  would  do  a  mighty  heap  to'ards  perper- 
tratin'  the  Union.  Wall,  arter  he  war  gone,  I  tuck  the  five 
bushel  inter  the  house,  an'  kivered  'um  up  keerful  in  the  cock- 
loft ;  but,  feelin'  mighty  gen'rous  loike,  on  'count  uv  my  big 
bargin',  I  thor't  I'd  guv  the  mar  a  sort  o'  Chiistmus  dinner  o' 
the  peck  measure  full.  So  I  put  'nm  afore  her,  an'  she  smelled 
on  'um  ravernous  mad  fur  a  minuet,  but  then  she  turned  up 
bar  nose,  an'  wouldn't  luck  at  'um  agin." 

"She  found  them  too  hearty  loikc ;  I  suppose,"  I  said,  re- 
straining a  stroi>g  inclination  to  laugh. 

"I  'spose  she  did,  an'  I  reckon  they  would  hev  bin  raather 
hard  o'  'gestion,  fur  they  wus  shoe  pegs  !" 
"  Shoe  pegs  ?" 

"  Yas,  shoe  pegs  !  The  durnation  Yankee  hed  a  scowrn  the 
hull  deestrict,  an'  found  no  'un  green  'nuff  ter  buy  'um,  but 
me." 

Amid  the  general  laugh  which  ensued,  I  asked : 
"And  how  about  the  clock?  how  did  that  turn  out?" 
"  'Twus  wuss  nur  'tother — it  nuver  struck  oust." 
"Well  that  Yankee  was  smart,"  said  the  captain.     "  It  takes 
a  smart  one  to  get  ahead  of  you,  Tom." 

"He  didn't  git  ahead  uv  me,"  replied  Tom,  with  comic  in- 
dignation. "  I  wus  three  dollars  inter  him  when  I  got  shut  o' 
them  oats.  Ye  sees,  I  toted  'um  ter  Pikcville,  an'  sold  'nm  fur 
whot  they  raaly  wus — shoe  pegs — an'  got  five  dollars  fur  the 
lot.  The  peddler  mought  hev  done  it,  ef  he  could  onyhow  hev 
brought  his  mind  to  act  honest,  but  he'd  ruther  cheat  fur  half 


THE    POOR    WIin^E    MAN.  117 

prico,  nnr  trade  fa'r  fur  full  pay.  An'  thet's  the  sort  o'  Yankee 
ve's  sent  'inoncr  ns,  Strannrer.  They's  done  aheap  to'ards  guvin 
us  a  bad  'pini*^!!  on  ye,  an'  brunrrin'  on  this  war." 

"I  know  thcv  hfive.  I  bhish  to  think  I  was  born  on  tlie 
Fame  phinet  with  some  of  them.  But,  Tom,  about  getting  down 
from  the  moon.     How  did  you  do  that  ?" 

"  Why,"  repb'ed  Tom,  with  a  sang  froid  that  was  perfectly 
inimitable,  "  I  jest  waited  till  the  moon  come  round  tcr  the  yerth 
nfrin,  an'  when  it  got  'bout  over  dad's  deal'nin',  I  let  myself 
drap,  an'  landed  squar  in  the  yam-patch,  sound  as  ye  sees  me. 
I  mosoved  fur  home,  an'  told  dad  whar  I'd  bin ;  an'  dad  sez  tev 
me,  sez  he:  '  Bully  fur  ye,  Tom;  yer  a  raal  chip  o'  the  old 
block ;  ye  kin  travil  or  spin  a  yarn  nigh  up  ter  yer  fader,  an' 
thet  's  savin'  a  heap.'  An'  it  war  sayin'  a  heap,  for  dad  could 
lie  loike  a  parson." 

After  the  merriment  which  followed  Tom's  stories  had  sub- 
sided, I  said  to  him  : 

"  Speaking  of  riding  round  the  moon  in  that  '  kerridge'  so 
like  a  coffin,  reminds  me  of  once  travelling  in  a  coffin  myself." 

"  An'  how  wus  it,  stranger,"  asked  Tom ;  "  d'ye  b'licve  ye 
kin  tell  a  bigger  story  than  thet  'bout  the  moon  ?" 

"  Not  a  bigger  one,  but  one  a  little — truer.'''' 

"  Ef  yekin  come  ony  nigher  the  truth  then  thet  an'  not  hit 
it,  I'd  loike  ter  hev  ye." 

"  Well,  I'll  try,  but  I  shall  hit  it— a  thing  I  reckon  you  sel- 
dom do.  It  was  late  in  November,  twelve  years  ago.  I  was 
coming  from  Florida  with  Edward  C.  Cabell,  the  Confederate 
general  who  is  now  giving  us  so  much  trouble  in  Arkansas.  It 
had  rained  very  hard  all  day,  and  when,  at  dark,  we  reached 
Albany— a  little  town  in  South-Western  Georgia— we  found  the 


118  DOWN   IN    TENNESSEE. 

Flint  River  had  risen  twenty-five  feet.  It  poured  down  all  that 
night,  and  in  the  morning  we  learned  that  the  stage,  which  was 
to  have  taken  us  to  Oglethorpe — the  terminus  of  the  Savannah 
Railroad — had  not  arrived,  and  that  the  bridijes  over  all  the 
streams  for  miles  around  had  been  swept  away  by  the  freshet. 
This  was  unpleasant  news  to  both  of  us,  for  Cabell  was  anxious 
to  be  in  Washington  at  the  opening  of  Congress  (of  which  he 
was  a  member),  and  important  business  demanded  my  imme- 
diate attention  in  Savannah.  Crossing  the  streams  we  supposed 
to  be  impossible  ;  so  we  decided  to  take  a  horse,  buggy,  and 
negro  driver,  and  attempt  to  head  them  in  the  up-country.  We 
would  have  to  ride  nearly  two  hundred  miles  over  rough  roads, 
when  it  was  only  fii'ty  to  the  railroad  by  the  direct  route ;  but 
that  we  thouo-ht  better  than  waitino;  a  fortnio^ht  in  so  desolate  a 
place  as  Albany.  It  would  be  all  of  that  time  before  the  bridges 
were  repaired,  for  people  in  that  region  are  not  over  '  fast' — in 
such  respects.  We  started,  and  riding  about  six  miles,  came 
to  a  place  called  Box  Ankle — one  house,  and  a  cross-road  dog- 
gery— and  the  planter  there  told  us  that  the  Kicafoonee,  a  creek 
about-a  mile  distant,  could  be  safely  swum  on  the  back  of  a  mule, 
and  that  he  would  ferry  us  over,  in  that  manner  for  a  'fa'r  con- 
sideration.' The  temptation  of  swapping  two  hundred  miles  for 
fifty  was  very  great,  and  we  rode  down  to  the  stream  to  recon- 
noitre. It  was  fully  three  hundred  yards  wide,  and  the  current 
was  running '  like  time.'  Cabell  thought  '  the  longest  way  round 
the  shortest  way,'  to  Congress,  but  I  decided  to  take  the  direct 
route  and  risk  the  creeks.  Agreeing  to  take  charge  of  my  trunk, 
and  to  leave  it  at  Savannah,  Cabell  turned  about  for  the  up- 
country,  while  I,  stripping  off  my  lower  garments  and  tying 
them  to  my  shoulder,  mounted  the  mule,  and  breasted  the  '  swift- 


A 


THE    POOK    WHITE    MA2s'.  110 

flowing  waters'  of  the  Kicafoonee.  I  got  safely  over,  and,walking 
ou  about  a  mile,  came  upon  a  planter,  who  kindly  gave  me  '  a 
lift'  to  the  Relay  Station  of  the  Stage  Company.  Then  I  se- 
cured a  conveyance  to  the  Muckalce,  another  creek  about  three 
miles  beyond  Starksville.  Arriving  at  the  creek,  I  found  it  as 
swollen  and  furious  as  the  Kicafoonee,  and  none  of  the  planters 
in  the  vicinity  willing  to  risk  a  mule  in  an  attempt  to  cross  it. 
I  was  pondering  the  adage,  'Make  haste  slowly,'  when  the 
thought  of  a  boat  occurred  to  me. 

" '  Xo  one  yere  'bouts  hes  one  or  knows  how  ter  build  one,'  said 
the  planter  to  whom  I  made  application. 

"  '  But,  your  negro  boy  here  can  build  a  coffin  ;'  (he  was  just 
driving  the  last  nail  into  a  monstrous  large  one)  '  if  lie  can 
do  that,  he  can  build  a  boat.     I'll  show  him  how.' 

"  *  I  doan't  b'lieve  he  kin.  Stranger ;  he  nuver  went  more'n  a 
coffin.'. 

"  '  Well,  this  is  mightily  like  a  boat ;  what  will  you  take 
for  it  ?' 

"  '  The  old  'ooman  orter  to  be  buried  ter-day — the  fact  ar 
she's  bin  'bove  ground  too  long  a' ready — but  ef  ye  want  it  right 
bad,  I  reckon  ye  kin  have  it  fur  five  dollars.'  (It  was  worth 
about  fifty  cents.) 

"  '  How  deep  is  the  stream  ?' 

" '  'Bout  ten  foot,  ter  the  deepest.' 

*"  Well,  give  me  some  tar  and  a  long  pole,  and  the  money  is 
yours.' 

"  Calking  the  coffin  with  tar  and  some  strips  of  old  bagging, 
and  nailing  a  cleat  across  its  middle  for  a  seat,  I  divested  myself 
of  my  clothing,  to  be  able  to  swim  more  freely  in  case  of  '  ship- 
wreck,' and  '  launched  my  bark'  on  the  Muckalee.     I  got  on 


120  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

*  swimmingly'  till  I  rL'aclied  the  middle  of  the  creek  ;  then,  the 
current  cauglit  the  coffin,  and  carried  it  at  least  two  miles  down 
the  run  to  where  a  jutting  bank  had  made  a  strong  eddy  in  the 
stream.  Floating  into  this  whirlpool,  the  coffin  began  sailing 
round  and  round,  and  kept  on  sailing  round  and  round  for  a 
full  hour,  despite  theunited  efforts  of  the  pole  and  myself  to  ex- 
tricate it.  Night  was  coming  on,  and  staying  there  after  dark  was 
a  thinor  not  to  be  thono-ht  of.  I  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  from  shore,  so  I  resolved  to  attempt  swimming  to  it.  Strap- 
ping my  clothes  to  my  shoulder  with  my  suspenders,  as  I  had 
done  when  I  swam  the  mule,  I  lowered  myself  into  the  stream, 
and  at  the  end  of  half-an-hour,  after  desperate  effort,  and  once 
or  twice  giving  myself  up  for  lost,  I  reached  the  land." 

"  An'  whot  come  on  the  coffin  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"I  don't  know.     It  may  be  there  yet." 

"  I  reckon  it  ar,"  he  replied,  dryly. 

"  Then  you  don't  believe  the  story." 

"  Wall,  Stranger,  I  kin  gwo  it  all  'cept  the  swimmin'.  But 
the  man  as  'tempts  ter  swim  one  o'  them  runs  when  they's  up,  ar 
uther  a  rantankerous  fool  or  a  — Yankee,  an'  some  reckon  one 
'bout  the  same  as  t'other." 

"  Well,  Tom,  I  knew  when  I  was  whirling  about  in  that 
coffin  that  I  was  a  rantankerous  fool  and  a  Yankee  to  boot. 
However,  the  story  is  true." 

"  And  how  did  Cabell  get  through  ?"  inquired  the  parson. 

"  After  various  other  mishaps,  I  reached  Oglethorpe  at  the 
end  of  seven  days,  and  found  Cabell  quietly  picking  his  teeth 
on  the  porch  of  the  hotel.  He  had  been  there  just  long  enough 
to  eat  his  dinner ;  so,  you  see,  '  the  longest  way  round  is  the 
shortest  way  to  Congress,'  after  all." 


THE   POOR   WHITE   MAN. 


121 


«'Lndin'  tcr  freshets,  stranger,"  said  Tom,  "'minds  me  uv 
'un  we  bed  onst  in  Bladsoe,  wliar" 

But  the  other  stories  that  Tom  told,  while  they  might  further 
illustrate  the  broad  native  humor  of  the  South,  and  that  spirit 
of  exafffjeration  which  is  so  importaat  an  element  in  it,  and  m 
the  Southern  character,  will  keep  till  the  war  is  over,  when  you 
and  I,  reader,  may  not  feel  that  we  are  wasting  on  idle  tales, 
time  and  thought  that  should  be  given  to  our  country. 
6 


122  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    OLD    negro's    STORY. 

My  pen  lingers  lovingly  over  those  four  companions,  around 
that  little  pine  table,  in  that  quiet  camp  by  the  Cumberland. 
Each  is  a  "  character  "  and  a  "  representative  man"  in  his  way 
and  I  long  to  fill  out  the  sketch  I  have  outlined,  and  to  picture, 
"as  large  as  life  and  twice  as  natural,"  the  brave  young  captain, 
the  type,  as  he  is,  of  the  glorious  West ;  the  droll,  earnest  chap- 
lain, divested  of  his  clerical  clothes,  and  his  soul  broadened 
from  Jong  contact  with  the  free  life  of  the  prairies ;  the  uncouth, 
fun-loving  old  negro,  who,  by  the  parson's  reckoning,  is  bound, 
in  spite  of  lying,  stealing,  and  whisky-drinking,  to  be  "in  Heav- 
en a  thousand  years  before  any  white  man  living ;"  and  the  rough- 
hewn,  irresistible,  and  indescribable  Tom,  with  his  simple  heart, 
his  sturdy  sense,  his  rare  truth,  and  magnificent  lying,  all  of 
which  go  to  make  him  the  type  of  the  poor  white  yeomanry  of 
the  South — the  "  mean  trash,"  as  the  chivalry  call  them,  but  no 
more  "  trash"  than  is  the  oak,  which  stands  strong,  rugged, 
and  rough-coated  in  the  forest,  waiting  to  be  fashioned  into 
forms  of  use  and  beauty. 

What  a  mass  of  exasfireration  he  was !  How  he  maornitied 
every  thing,  even  himself !  He  could  "  whip  twice  his  heft  in 
Secesh,  bars,  or  rattlesnakes.  With  the  captain  on  his  back, 
he  could  "  outrun  creation  and  give  it  two  mile  the  start." 
Though  not  given    to  drinking,  he   could  tote  a  "  barr'l  of 


THE    OLD    NEGKO'S    STOKY.  123 

whisky,"  and  then  pace  ''  abee  Une  on  the  brink  of  a  presurpiss." 
Even  when  he  went  afoot,  he  "  piked  faster  than  a  horse  kin 
trot,"  and  when  he  rode,  he  out-traveled  two  tornadoes  hitched 
to  a  jockey-wagon  and  driven  by  a  darky  in  livery.  He  "  'lowed" 
be  was  ignorant,  but  he  know'd  a  log  from  seven  dollars  and  a 
quarter,  and  if  he  seldom  thought,  when  he  did  think,  he  went 
»'  plumb  down  lowerin' "  the  bottom  of  things,  and  up  to  where 
imagination  grows  dizzy,  and  has  to  steady  herself  with  a  gin 
cocktail.  He  didn't  believe  he  was  "  horned  fur  the  stump," 
but  when  he  got  through  the  "  National  Speaker  "—which  the 
captain  had  lent  him— he  know'd  he  could  talk  the  legs  oflF  the 
parson,  though  he  had  hard  him  spout  chain-lightning  in  the 
breaks  of  a  thunder-storm.  He  reckoned  Heaven  was  a  pretty 
comfortable  sort  of  a  place,  but  not  quite  up  to  some  parts  of 
"  Bladsoe  "  County ;  but  "  Biadsoe  "  itself  wouldn't  be  fit  for 
white  men  to  live  in  if  the  Union  was  split  to  flinders.  And  if 
thet  happins,  stranger,  who'll  ye^it  ter  make  anuther  Decel'- 
ration  uv  Independence  ?  Only  two  livin'  men  kin  do  it  — me 
an'  Gin'ral  Jackson,  an'  the  Gin'ral's  dead,  an'  me— why  I  hain't 
got  right  well  inter  the  writin'  bizness  yit." 

"  Split  the   Union,"  I  echoed,  "  never  fear  that,  Tom  ;  you 
can't  split  a  rotten  log." 

''  No  more'n  ye  can't.  Stranger,"  replied  Tom,  "  an'  'tween 
ye  small-soul ded,  lucre-luvin'  Yankees,  an'  them  blue-blasted, 
nigger-tradin'  Secesh,  the  kentry  ar  got  ter  be,  'bout  as  rottin 
as  sin." 

What  a  picture  he  would  make,  drawn   with  a  skilful  hand, 

at  full  length—"  six  foot  three,  without  leathers  !"       Some  day 

my  pen  may  attempt  him,  but  now — I  must  go  on  with  my  yarn. 

On  the  following  morning  I  rose  early  to  set  out  for  Murfrees- 


124  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

boro.  Arriving  at  the  railway  station,  I  deposited  my  trunk  in 
the  baggage  car,  and  was  quietly  proceeding  to  take  a  seat 
among  the  passengers,  when  a  civil  young  man,  in  a  half-military 
costume,  arrested  ray  steps  at  the  foot  of  the  platform,  with : 
*'  Please  show  your  pass,  Sir." 

I  remembered  having  heard  that  summons  before,  and,  at 
once,  drew  from  my  pocket  a  sheet  of  foolscap  ornamented  with 
General  Burnside's  autograph. 

'•  This  will  not  do.  Sir.  We  have  strict  orders  to  pass  no 
one  down  without  a  permit  from  head-quarters." 

"  General  Burnside  told  me  this  would  pass  me  anywhere  in 
the  United  States." 

"But  you  are  not  in  the  United  States,  Sir.  Tennessee  has 
joined  New  Jersey,  and  gone  out  of  the  Union." 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  Go  to  General  Morgan's  headquarters,  and  ask  them  to  tele- 
graph to  Murfreesboro.     Yoi^  get  a  reply  in  an  hour." 

This  would  detain  me  at  Nashville  another  day,  but  there  was 
no  help  for  it,  so,  reshipping  my  trunk,  I  rode  back  to  the 
hotel.  After  an  hour  spent  in  parleying  with  General  Morgan's 
aide,  another  hour  in  waiting  for  a  reply  to  the  telegram,  and 
still  another  hour  in  again  dancing  attendance  on  the  same  aid — a 
consequential  young  gentleman,  who  will  probably  be  a  Brigadier 
by  the  time  his  beard  begins  to  grow  (Government  has  made 
at  least  a  baker's  dozen  of  the  same  sort),  I  placed  the  "  open- 
sesame"  document  in  my  pocket,  and  went  my  way,  inwardly 
resolving  never  again  to  set  foot  in  Tennessee  till  the  passport 
system  is  abolished. 

The  day  was  on  my  hands,  and,  having  nowhere  else  to  go,  I 
turned  my  steps  toward  the  tent  of  the  Illinois  chaplain.     Pass- 


THE   OLD   negro's    STORY.  125 

ing  the  Governor's  house  on  my  way — a  large,  square,  dingy 
brick  building,  opposite  the  Capitol— I  left  my  letters  at  the 
door,  and  walked  on  to  the  open  fields  beyond  the  town.  A 
half  a  mile  away  I  came  upon  the  city  cemetery,  a  beautiful  spot, 
with  growing  grass,  and  waving  trees,  and  unnumbered  flowers 
growiniT  over  low  mounds,  and  in  one  corner,  half  a  thousand 
new-made  graves  with  little  white  headboards,  whose  simple  in- 
scriptions told  that  the  soldiers  of  the  Union  were  sleeping  be- 
neath them. 

One  of  these  graves  was  open,  and  an  old  negro  was  filling  it 
with  earth — singing  as  he  worked.  Seating  myself  on  the  low 
paling,  I  listened  to  his  song.     These  are  soi  \e  of  the  words  : 

"Say,  darkies,  liab  you  seed  de  Massa 
"Wid  de  mufftash  on  his  face, 
Gwo  long  de  road  some  time  dis  mornin', 

Like  he  gwine  ter  leab  de  place? 
He  toted  'way  a  hoss  and  saddle, 

An'  forgot  ter  leab  de  pay ; 
So  I  spec'  he'm  jined  de  big  skedaddle ; 
I  spec'  he'm  run  away. 

De  massa  run,  ha !  ha ! 

De  darky  stay,  ho  !  ho  I 
It  mus'  be  now  de  kingdom  comin* 
An'  de  year  of  Jubilo. 

"He  leff  ahind  some  likely  darkies, 

A  sufFrin'  bad  wid  grief. 
Fur  dat  dar  high  and  mighty  massa 

Hab  turn  a  mean  hoss-tief ! 
Dey  greab  as  ef  dey  wus  his  chiUen, 

An'  I  haff  suspec'  dey  ar' ; 
For  dey's  his  nose,  his  big  base  fiddle, 
An'  his  reddish  wooly  ha'r. 

De  massa  run,  ha  !  ha  1 

De  darky  stay,  ho  1  ho  1 
It  mus'  be  now  de  kingdom  comin', 
An'  de  year  of  Jubilo," 


126  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Lamenting  for  your  master,  eh,  Uncle  ?"  I  said,  approaching 
him..    It  was  wrong  in  him  to  turn  'hoss-tief.'  " 

The  old  man  paused  at  his  work,  and  turning  on  me,  with  a 
look  of  wounded  pride,  said  curtly  : 

"  My  massa  hain't  no  hoss-tief,  Sar.  He  neber  done  no  sech 
t'ing  as  dat — neber,  Sar  I" 

"  I  only  took  your  word  for  it — that's  all,"  I  answered,  laugh- 
ing. 

*'  Oh,  dat  warn't  my  massa,  Sar,"  he  replied,  good  naturedly  ; 
"  dat  wus  some  of  dem  fo?^Secesh.  My  massa  run  away,  Sar,  but 
he'm  a  gemraen  ;  he  loab  ebery  t'ing  ahind,  eben  ole  Joe." 

"  And  did  you  ^  ant  to  go  with  him  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  Sar !  /  hain't  no  secesh  ;  an'  I  wus  fotched  up  dis 
away,  in  Nashville.  Massa  know'd  I  didn't  want  ter  leab,  an' 
he  reckoned  I  could  shirk  fur  myseff,  somehow,  Sar." 

"And  how  do  you  get  on  shirking  for  yourself?"  I  asked; 
'*  you  are  very  old." 

He  seemed  at  least  seventy.  His  hair  was  white  and  his 
body  greatly  bowed,  and  scarcely  more  than  a  skeleton. 

"Oh,  bery  well,  Massa,  bery  well.  Union  folk  bery  good  ter 
me,  Sar.  Eberybody  'pear  sort  o'  kin'er  ter  ole  Joe,  eber  sence 
de  pore  boy  wus  a  killed — eber  sence  he  wus  a  killed,  Sar ;"  and 
resting  on  the  handle  of  his  spade  he  brushed  away  a  great- tear 
that  was  rolling  down  his  cheek. 

"  And  have  you  lost  a  son  in  the  war  ?" 

"  Gran'son,  Massa,  down  ter  Stun  riber;   an'  he  wus  a  all  I 
Led,  Massa — all  I  bed,  ever  sence  de  ole  'ooraan  die ;   an'  she 
gwo  raore'n  two  vear  ago — more'n  two  year  ago  ;"  and  again 
his  hand  found  its  way  to  his  eyes. 
"  And  was  he  killed  in  the  battle  ?" 


THE   OLD   negro's    STORY.  127 

"No,  Sar;    dey  didn't  'low  no  brack  folks  fur  sogers  den. 
Doy  wouldn't  left'  him  fight,  Sar,  but  dcy  leff  hira  be  shot  down 


in  cole  blood — in  cole  blood,  Sar !" 


'*  In  cold  blood  !     IIow  was  it  ?     Tell  me." 

To  screen  myself  from  the  rays  of  the  sun  I  had  taken  a  seat 
on  a  low  head-stone,  in  the  shade  of  a  small  tree.  When  I 
asked  this  question  the  old  negro,  laying  aside  his  spade,  squat- 
ted on  the  grass  near  me,  and  then  in  broken  sentences,  and  with 
frequent  interruptions,  expressive  of  the  intensity  of  his  feelings, 
he  told  me  about  his  grandson. 

"  You  sees,  Massa,  his  pore  mudder — de  on'y  chile  we  eber 
hed — die  when  Peter  was  a  bcry  little  t'ing,  not  no  higher'n  dat 
#  grabestone,  so  he  wus  a  fotched  up  'long  ob  we  ole  folks,  like 
as  ef  he  wus  our  own  chile.  He  wus  a  great  comfurt  ter  u^,  Sar, 
an'  eberybody  tuck  ter  him,  an'  eberybody  say  whot  a  likely  boy 
Peter  wus — he'd  a  sole  ony  time  fur  a  tousand  dollar,  an'  in 
good  backer  times  (he  wuck'd  in  a  backer  fact'ry)  he'd  a  brung 
fifteen  hun'red,  easy,  Sar.  Wall,  when  de  Secesh  make  de  big 
skedaddle,  massa  gwoed  long,  an  he  tuck  Peter  wid  him.  Dat 
a'most  broked  my  ole  heart,  Sar,  'case  he  wus  all  I  hed — all  I 
hed,  Sar ;  but  it  wus  de  Lord's  will,  an'  'sides  it  couldn't  be 
holp(?d,  nohow.  W^all,  Peter  kept  'long  wid  do  Soo'^sh  nigh 
enter  a  y'ar,  an'  den  dey  want  ter  make  him  gum;  r  t<T  a  bat'ry, 
but  Peter  tole  'em  he  wouldn't  fi't  de  nordern  gemmen,  dat  am 
friends  ter  de  brack  folks,  no  way — not  fur  no  'sid'ration,  Sar. 
Den  dey  gib  him  a  awfu'  whippin',  an'  lock  him  up  in  de  jail. 
He  got  'way  dough,  an'  afer  mos'  credible  suffrin',  Sar,  de  got 
widin  de  lines.  Dat  wus  'bout  de  time  dat  Gin'ral  Eosey  wus 
a  gwine  ter  smite  de  Phillistuns  wid  de  hip  an'  t'igh,  down  dar 
ter  Stun  riber.     Wall,  dey  want  Peter  ter  gwo  'long  wid  de 


128  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

wagins,  an'  Peter  axed  me  wbot  he  should  a  do.  Now,  he  wus 
all  I  hed,  Sar.  all  I  hed  ;  an'  I  sot  my  bery  life  on  dat  boy,  biit 
I  tole  him,"  and  here  the  old  man  straightened  up  his  bent  form, 
and  his  shrunken  features  assumed  a  look  of  quiet  dignity.  "  I 
tole  him,  sar,  dat  he  hedn't  but  one  life,  an'  ter  gib  dat  fur  his 
country,  an'  de  brack  folks.  An'  he  done  it,  Sar  1  lie  done  it. 
An'  ef  dey'd  on'y  gib'n  him  a  musket,  Sar  !"  (Here,  swaying 
his  body  to  and  fro,  he  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  grief,)  "  on'y 
gib'n  him  a  musket,  Sar,  an'  leff  him  fit  de  Secesh — but,  ter  die 
so,  Sar — ter  die  so  ;  it  wus  too  hard — it  clean  broke  ole  Joe's 
heart,  Sar." 

"  And  how  did  he  die,  Uncle  ?"  I  asked  when  he  became  some- 
what composed.  % 

"  I'll  a  tell  you,  Sar.  It  wus  dis  a  way.  Peter,  he  gwo  off 
wid  de  wagins,  an'  I  gwo  off  wid  him,  'case,  ye  sees,  I  couldn't 
be  ob  no  use  yere,  an'  dar  wus  no  tellin'  but  I  mought  do  suffin 
down  dar ;  sides,  I  couldn't  bar  ter  be  'way  frum  Peter,  fur  suffin 
yere,  Sar  (laying  his  hand  on  his  heart),  telled  me  dat  trubble 
wus  a  comin'.  Wall,  on  de  day  ob  de  fust  battle  we  wus  in  de 
r'ar — 'bout  firty  wagins  on  us,  all  wid  brack  dribers,  an'  a  white 
leftenan' — an'  a  planter  libin'  'bout  dar  rid  up  an'  telled  de  lef- 
tenan'  dat  McCook  wus  a  druv  ter  nowhar,  an'  dat  he'd^jess  a 
seed  Wheeler's  calvary — 'bout  free  t'ousand  on  um — headin' 
norf,  an'  he  reckoned  dey  wus  a  gwine  ter  come  down  on  Gunnel 
Innis  up  ter  Laverne.  He  say  some  one  orter  gwo  up  an'  leff 
de  cunnel  know,  but  he  couldn't  a  gwo,  case  he  went  fur  Secesh, 
an'  ebery  one  round  dar  know'd  him.  De  leftenan'  he  say  I'd 
hab  ter  gwo,  case  der  wus  no  one  dat  could  be  speered  but  me 
— ye  sees,  Peter  an'  me  driv  de  same  wagin,  an'  hed  de  same 
wages ;  but  de  leftenan',  he  sot  high  on  me,  an'  he  gib  me  my 


THE    OLD    negro's    STORY.  129 

rations,  so  I  tort  I  could  gib  my  does  ter  de  country.  We 
hedn't  none  btit  de  wagin  bosses,  but  de  planter,  he  say  we  wus 
welcome  ter  his'n  ;  so  I  got  on  ter  him,  an'  rid  off  ter  tell  Gun- 
nel Tunis.  (De  Lord's  hand  wus  in  dat,  Sar.  Sometimes  IIo 
cut  down  de  young  saplin's  an'  leab  de  ole  trees  a'  growin'.)  1 
tellcd  Gunnel  Tunis  whot  de  planter  say,  an'  de  cunnel,  dough  he 
hedn't  more'n  'bout  free  hun'red  men, 'peared  bery  glad  ter  yere 
it — he'm  de  gemmen,  Sar,  dat  '  doan't  surrender  much.'  Wall, 
de  cunnel  he  treat  me  jess  like  I  wus  a  white  man,  an'  make  me 
tarry  dar  ober  night.  Airly  de  nex'  mornin'  I  gwocs  back  ter 
whar  de  wagins  wus,  an'  dey  wusn't  dar,  but  dar,  all  around,  de 
ground  wus  a  cohered  wid  brack  men — shotted  down — dead  !" 

Here  the  old  negro  paused  for  a  moment.  His  lips  moved 
silently,  but  he  shed  no  tears.  I  said  nothing,  and  he  soon  re- 
sumed his  story. 

"  I  luck'd  all  'bout,  an'  I  couldn't  fine  no  sign  ob  Peter;  but 
arter  a  while  I  gMH)ed  down  de  pike,  an'  dar,  right  in  de  middle 
ob  de  road,  wus  some  'un  in  Peter's  does,  wid  his  head  so 
nigh  blowed  off  dat  I  couldn't  a  tell  who  he  wus.  I  couldn't 
b'lieve  it  wus  Peter,  but  T  kneeled  down  aside  ob  him  an'  pray- 
ed, an'  den  I  feel  in  his  pocket,  an'  fine  de  Bible  I  hed  gib'n  ter 
Peter.  It  wus  him  !  I  shot  my  eyes,  an'  groaned.  W^hen  I 
open'd  'um  agin  de  sky  was  brack — it  warn't  more'n  ten  in  de 
mornin' — and  de  yerth  wus  brack,  an'  dar,warn't  no  sun,  nur  no 
moon,  nur  no  stars  in  de  heabens,  an'  de  Lord  hisself  'peared 
ter  hab  leff  de  univarse.  I  sot  dar,  an'  sot  dar,  an'  sot  dar, 
right  in  de  road,  how  long  I'll  neber  know,  an'  at  lass  de  hoss 
— I'd  a  leff  him  gwo  a  browsin'  in  de  woods — come  up  ter  me, 
an'  puttin'  his  head  down  ter  mine,  cried  an'  whinner'd  jes= 
loike  he  know'd  de  great  trubble  dat  was  on  me.     Dat  sort  o' 


130  DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE 

brung  me  ter  myseff,  an'  tinkin'  de  pore  critter  wonted  some 
water,  I  riz  up,  an'  drawin'  Peter  under  a  tree,  I  leff  him  dar, 
fur  I'd  nuffin'  ter  bury  him  wid  ;  an'  'sides,  I  tort  ef  he  wus 
above  ground  de  Lord — ef  der  wus  any  Lord  left" — couldn't  holp 
seein'  him,  an'  so  He'd  be  a  sort  o'  '  libin  witness'  agin  dem  as 
hed  murdered  him." 

"  And  who  murdered  him  ?"  I  asked. 

"  De  Wheeler  calvary  dat  we'd  bin  a  warned  agin.  Dey 
come  outer  de  train  right  arter  I  gwoed  'way,  tuck  de  wagins, 
an'  shot  down  de  dribers  in  cole  blood,  'case  dey  wus  brack. 
De  leftenan',  he  sot  high  on  Peter,  an'  when  he  seed  whot  dey 
wus  a  doin',  he  tole  de  Secesh  major  he'd  gib  a  t'ousand  dollar 
fur  Peter's  life.  But  de  major,  he  say  he  warn't  no  n*gger-tra- 
der  an'  den  he  put  his  'volver  right  squar  agin  Peter's  head,  an' 
blow  his  brains  all  ober  de  leftenan'.  De  leftenan'  wus  a 
'changed  arterwuds,  an'  telled  me  all  'bout  how  it  wus." 

"  Wall  I  toted  de  boss  oft"  ter  de  run  'bout  a,  mile  back,  but  he 
wouldn't  a  drink — 'pearcd  loike  he  knowed  whot  wus  a  comin' 
on  him,  an'  didn't  keer  'bout  nuffin'  more  on  dis  yerth.  Fd  a 
yered  de  cannon  a  firin'  off"  on  de  battle-field  all  de  mornin',  an' 
I  wanted  ter  git  out  ob  trubble — I  knows  dat  wus  wrong,  Sar, 
but  I  couldn't  holp  it — so  I  turn  de  boss  roun'  an'  gwoes  off"  ter 
de  battle  — dey  didn't  call  it  no  battle  dat  day,  but  dey  kep'  a 
firin'  de  big  guns  all  de  time.  I  hadn't  rid  more'n  free  mile  'fore 
a  shot  hit  de  pore  boss  on  de  shoulder,  right  afore  me,  an'  kill 
him  ter  oust.  At  fust  I  tort  I  wus  dead,  too,  fur  I  was  fro  wed 
a  long  way,  but  I  warn't  hurted  at  all.  Wall,  de  boss  die,  an' 
I  couldn't  do  nuffin  for  him,  so  I  gits  up  an'  gwoes  on  nigher 
ter  de  battle.  I  walk  on,  an'  walk  on,  an'  at  lass  I  come  ter  de 
place  whar  dey  fit  so  two  days  arterwuds — dey  call  it  '  Hell's- 


THE   OLD   negro's    STORY.  131 

half-acre' — it'm  clus  ter  wbar  de  pike  runs  inter  de  railroad. 
Dey  say  dar  waru't  no  battle  a  gwine  on  den,  but  de  balls  wus 
a  flyin'  round  dar  ticker  dan  bank  bills  in  'backer  times.  It 
'peared  jess  de  place,  so  I  sot  down  dar,  'long  side  de  road,  an' 
waited  fur  de  shot  dat  shud  send  me  ter  Peter.  Ye  sees,  he 
wus  all  I  hed,  all  I  bed,  Sar,  an'  I  feel  den  like  I  couldn't  lib 
wid  out  him,  fur  it  wus  dark  wid  me,  an'  dar  'peared  no  Lord 
in  de  heabens." 

"  Wall,  I  sot  dar,  an'  sot  dar,-  an'  sot  dar,  an'  de  sogers  march 
'long,  an'  de  calvary  rid  by,  an'  de  sun  gwo  down,  an'  de  night 
come  on,  an'  de  storm  riz  up,  an'  wetted  me  fru  an'  fru  ter  de 
bery  skin,  an'  I  neber  feel  it  'case  no  shot  come  and  send  me  ter 
Peter.  At  lass — it  wus  jess  sun  up  de  next  mornin' — a  whole  lot 
of  cavlary,  nigh  a  hun'red,  come  tunderin'  down  de  road,  an'  w^heu 
dey  gits  ober  agin  me,  somebody  cry  '  Halt  I'  an'  dey  all  stop 
chock  still,  like  dey'd  bin  a  shot,  all  ter  oust.  Den  a  gemman 
say  ter  me  in  a  bery  kiue  voice — so  satf  an'  sweet,  Sar,  as  ony 
music  you  eber  yered  : 

"  Uncle,  what  am  you  doin'  dar?" 

"I  look  up  an'  seed  who  he  was — Pd  a  seed  him  afore,  Sar, 
an'  I  know'd  him  ter  onst — nobody  eber  seed  him  an'  forgot 
him.  Wall,  I  look  up,  an'  tole  him,  all  cryin'  an'  moanin'  as 
I  was : 

"  Dey's  killed  Peter,  Gin'ral — shot  him  down  wid  de  wagins, 
in  cole  blood,  an'  I's  yere  'case  I  wants  ter  die,  Gin'ral,  'case  I 
wants  some  ob  de  shot  ter  fotch  me  out  ob  trubble." 

"  What  general  was  it  ?"  I  asked. 

'*  What  gin'ral  wus  it,  Sar  !"  echoed  the  old  negro.  *'  What 
oder  gin'ral  dan  Gin'ral  Rosey,  would  hab  done  sich  a  t'ing  as 
dat,  Sar  ?  stop  dar,  right  in  de  road,  wid  all  him  big  officers,  jess 


132  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

ter  say  a  kine  word  ter  a  pore  ole  darky,  as  he  seed  -vnis  in 
trubble  ?" 

"  Well,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ?" 

"  He  tole  me  'bout  Peter,  Sar,  an'  he  tork  ob  him  jess  like  he 
know'd  him  ;  but  he  didn't,  'case  he  couldn't  a  know'd  a  pore 
brack  boy  like  Peter  wus,  nohow.  He  tole  me  dat  I  musn't 
grebe  fur  Peter,  'case  he  wus  better  oflf  dan  ef  he  wus  a  drivin' 
de  wagins ;  dat  it  wus  a  glorious  t'ing  ter  die  fur  yer  country  ; 
dat  Peter  'd  a  done  it,  jess  so  raach  as  if  he'd  a  died  wid  a  mus- 
ket in  his  hand ;  dat  Gin'ral  Washington,  nur  none  ob  de  great 
men,  eber  done  more'n  Peter  done,  fur  he'd  a  gib'n  all  he  hed — 
his  life — fur  freedom.  An'  he  say  dat  dem  as  done  dat  wus 
bery  precious  in  de  sight  ob  de  Lord ;  dat  He  treasured  'um  up, 
up  dar,"  and  the  old  man  pointed  upward  ;  "  an'  caMed  'um  His 
jewels,  an'  kep'  'um  in  His  eyesight  fur  eber  an'  eber.  Dat  wus 
whot  de  gin'ral  say,  Sar ;  but  it  waru't  so  much  whot  he  say,  as 
de  way  he  say  it,  dat  tuck  de  load  off  my  heart,  an'  brung  de 
light  inter  my  eyes  agin.  T  karn't  tell  you  how  he  say  it,  Sar, 
but  it  'peared  ter  me  like  he'd  a  bin  a  ole  brack  man  onst  hisseff, 
an'  know'd  all  de  trubble  dey  feels  when  dey  hain't  nufhn  in  all 
de  worle,  an'  hab  loss  dat.  Wall,  den  he  say,  '  Tompey,*  send 
two  men  ter  gwo  'long  wid  dis  pore  brack  man  an'  bury  Peter,' 
an  den  he  say,  'Good-bye,  Uncle,'  an' .rid  off.  'Bout  a  hour 
arter  dat  I  yere  de  cannon  begin,  an'  he  wus  right  amung  'um, 
but  nary  shot  hit  him,  Sar,  an'  nary  shot  neber  will  hit  him,  fur 
I  prays  fur  him  all  de  time,  day  an'  night,  an'  de  Lord  hab 
promise  ter  yere  de  prayer  ob  dera  as  tries  ter  be  His  chillen." 

"  Den  de  hght  come  ter  me  agin,  Sar,  and  I  seed  de  Lord  wus 

*  Charles  E.  Thompson,  of  Bath,  Me.,  then  an  Aide  of  General  Eosecrana,  now  Olonel 
of  the  First  Tennessee  (colored)  Eegiment.  A  young  man  of  twenty-three,.who  enter- 
ed the  army  as  a  private.    One  of  "the  bravest  of  the  brave." 


THE    OLD    negro's    STORY.  133 

in  de  heabens,  arter  all ;  an»  dough  Teter's  gone,  an'  de  ole 
'ooman's  gone,  an'  Fsc  bcry  ole,  an'  hain't  got  nnffin  in  all  de 
worlc,  de  light  an'  love  ob  de  Lord  hab  bin  all  'round  mc  eber 
sence  de  gin'ral  spoke  so  kine  ter  me  down  dar  on  de  battle- 
ground. Ue'm  one  ob  de  Lord's  chillen,  Sar ;  one  ob  His  bery 
best  chillen;  His  chosen  chile,  Sar,  dat  am  a  gwine  ter  fotch  dis 
people  out  ob  de  land  ob  Egypt,  an'  out  ob  de  house  ob  bond- 
acre.     He  will,  Sar,  fur  de  Lord  am  wid  him." 


134:  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    REGIMENTAL    HOSPITAL. 


Leaving  the  old  negro  at  work  in  the  grave-yard,  I  resumed 
my  way  to  the  tent  of  the  Illinois  chaplain.  The  sun  was  just 
sinking  behind  the  trees  which  skirt  the  western  environs  of 
Nashville  when  I  entered  its  low  doorway. 

"  Yere'm  de  Nordern  gemman,"  exclaimed  the  sooty  represent- 
ative of  the  great  Roman,  as  I  made  my  appearance.  "  Fs 
telled  ye,  Massa  Parson,  de  Yankees  can't  do  eberyting.  Dey 
can't  git  fru  de  rod  tape  dey  hab  round  yere." 

Giving  no  heed  to  the  negro's  remark,  the  chaplain,  who  was 
drawing  on  his  coat  as  if  to  go  out,  welcomed  me  cordially,  and 
invited  me  to  accompany  him  to  the  hospital  of  the  regiment. 
"  One  of  my  boys  is  dying,"  he  said — "  a  Tennessee  boy, wounded 
at  Stone  River.     He  has  lingered  till  now,  but  now  is  going." 

Walking  rapidly  across  the  open  fields,  we  entered,  at  the  end 
of  a  short  half-hour,  a  dingy  warehouse  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
city.  About  fifty  low  cots*  were  ranged  along  the  two  sides  of 
a  narrow,  cheerless  apartment  on  the  ground  floor  of  this  build- 
ing, and  on  one  of  them  the  wounded  soldier  was  lying.  His 
face  was  pallid,  his  eyes  were  fixed,  a  cold,  clammy  sweat  was 
on  his  forehead — he  was  dying.  Sitting  at  his  feet  was  a  lad  of 
sixteen ;  and  kneeling  at  his  side,  her  hand  in  his,  was  a  middle- 
aged  woman,  with  worn  garments,  and  a  thin,  sorrow -marked 
face. 


THE   EEGIMENTAL   HOSPITAL.  135 

*'  You  arc  too  late  !  lie  is  almost  gone,"  said  the  colonel  of 
the  regiment,  as  we  paused  before  the  group. 

The  chaplain  made  no  reply,  but  slowly  uncovered  his  head, 
for  the  dying  man  was  speaking. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "good-by.  And  you,  Tom,  good-by. 
Be  of  good  heart,  mother.     God  will  take  care  of  you,  and  save 

— save  the ."     A  low  sound  then  rattled  in  his  throat,  and 

he  passed  away,  with  the  name  of  his  country  on  his  lips. 

The  mother  bent  down  and  closed  the  eyelids  of  her  dead  son ; 
and  then,  kissing  again  and  again  his  pale  face,  turned  to  go 
away.  As  she  did  so,  the  cliaplain,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  said 
to  her : 

"  The  Lord  gave :  the  Lord  hath  taken  away." 

Looking  up  to  him  with  tranquil  face  and  tearless  eyes,  the 
woman  answered :  • 

"  '  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  They  have  murdered 
my  husband,  Mr.  ChapFin,  my  oldest  boy,  and  now  John,  too, 
is  gone."  Then,  laying  her  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  her  living 
son,  she  turned  to  the  colonel,  and  while  her  voice  trembled  a 
very  little,  she  added  :  "  He's  all  I've  got  now,  Mr.  Gunnel — give 
him  John's  place  in  the  rigiment." 

A  tear  rolled  down  the  colonel's  weather-beaten  cheek,  and  he 
turned  his  face  away,  but  said  nothing.  There  was  a  convulsive 
twitching  about  the  chaplain's  firm-set  mouth,  as  he  said : 

"  The  Spartan  mother  gave  only  two  sons  to  her  country  : 
would  you  give  three  .^" 

*'  I'd  give  all — all  I've  got,  Mr.  Chapl'in,"  was  the  low  answer. 

And  this  was  a  "  poor  white"  woman  !  Iler  words  should  be 
heard  all  over  the  land.  They  should  go  down  in  history,  and 
ftiake  her  name — Rachel  Somers — immortal. 


136  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

Passing  on  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  the  chaplain  said 
to  a  dehcate  young  girl  who  was  attending  the  sick : 

"  Lucy,  are  you  willing  to  show  your  wounds  to  this  gentle- 
man ?" 

The  young  girl  blushed,  but  modestly  undoing  her  dress, 
showed  me  the  upper  part  of  her  back.  Deep  ridges,  striped 
with  red,  blue,  and  white,  completely  covered  it !  The  slave- 
driver's  whip,  wdth  a  hundred  lashes,  had  printed  our  country's 
colors  on  her  fair  skin,  because  she  had  refused  to  betray  the 
hiding-place  of  her  father ! 

"  I  could  tell  you  of  hundreds  of  these  people,"  said  the  chap- 
lain, as  he  put  his  arm  within  mine,  and  walked  with  me  towards 
the  hotel,  "  who  have  been  driven  to  the  woods,  hunted  with 
blood-hounds,  beaten  with  stripes,  hung  to  trees,  tossed  on  the 
points  of  bayonets,  torn  asunder  with  horses,  quartered  alive,  and 
burned  at  slow  fires,  rather  than  deny  their  country  or  betray  its 
friends.  The  world  has  seldom  seen  sfich  patriotism  as  theirs. 
There  is  a  grandeur  about  it  which  lifts  these  poor  people  into 
heroes,  and  will  make  their  story  the  brightest  page  in  the  an- 
nals of  this  countr}\" 

The  room  appropriated  to  me  at  the  hotel  being  unfit  for  the 
reception  of  any  animal  higher  in  the  scale  of  creation  than 
"four-footed  beasts  or  creeping  things,"  I  invited  the  chaplain, 
after  supper,  to  a  seat  on  a  dilapidated  chair  in  the  long,  low, 
smoky  apartment  which  occupies  the  ground  floor  of  the  "  Com- 
mercial Building,"  and  is  dignified  with  the  name  of  ofiice.    . 

The  chaplain  was  whiffing  slowly  away  at  his  cigar,  and  re- 
counting to  me,  in  his  peculiar  style,  some  of  his  campaign. ex- 
periences in  Dixie — during  which  he  had  wielded  the  sword  of 
Gideon  as  well  as  the  weapons  of  the  Lord — when  the  red-faced 


THE    REGIMENT AJi   HOSPITAL.  137 

landlord,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  a  smirk  on  his  face,  ap- 
proached us,  followed  by  a  tall,  spare,  gentlemanly  appearing 
man,  whom  he  introduced  as  follows : 

*'  Mr. ,  this  is  Secretary  East — our  Secrctaiy — Edward  11. 

East,  Esq.     You've  heered  uv  him." 

I  rose  and  replied  that  I  had  heard  of  Mr.  East,  and  was  veiy 
happy  to  meet  him.  .  Returning  my  greeting,  the  secretary  said : 

"  I  regret  that  I  was  not  at  home  when  you  left  your  letters 
this  morning.  I  am  acting  in  the  Governor's  absence,  and  shall 
be  glad  to  ser\^e  you  in  anj  way." 

Thanking  him,  and  saying  I  had  already  fallen  into  good 
hands,  I  asked  the  landlord  to  oblige  me  with  a  seat  for  my 
visitor.  That  worthy,  who  accommodates  guests  with  bed, 
board,  and  broken-backed  chairs,  at  the  rate  of  four  dollars 
per  diem,  looked  hel][?lessly  around  for  a  moment,  and  then 
repUed : 

"  I  don't  b'lieve  thar's  ary  other  cheer  in  the  hull  room." 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,"  said  the  secretary,  laughing,  and 
drawing  a  low  travelling  trunk  from  a  pile  in  the  corner,  "  this 
will  do."     . 

The  second  official  of  the  great  State  of  Tennessee  seated  him- 
self upon  the  trunk,  and  we  fell  into  a  long  conversation  on  the 
condition  of  the  country.     In  the  course  of  it  I  said  to  him : 

"  You  are  a  Southern  man,  sir ;  tell  me,  do  the  Rebel  leaders 
really  mean  to  establish  a  monarchy  ?"  ' 

"  Undoubtedly  they  do,"  he  replied.  "  They  have  had  that 
purpose  from  the  beginning.  Their  main  object  in  bringing  on 
the  war  was  to  get  the  Southern  people  into  the  clutches  of  a 
military  despotism,  so  that  they  might  disfranchise  them,  and 
thus  prevent  their  ever  overturning  slavery.     If  you  will  come 


138  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

up  to  the  State-House  to-morrow,  I  will  show  you  volumes  of 
correspondence  to  prove  this." 

"  But  why  was  it  necessary  to  disfranchise  the  people  ?  They 
have  followed  the  lead  of  the  slave-lords  blindly.  The  most  of 
them  think  slavery  promotes  their  interests." 

"  That  is  tme,  but  Northern  ideas  were  working  down  among 
them.  In  Maryland,  Kentucky,  Missouri,  and  Western  Virginia, 
they  had  spread  wonderfully.  Those  States  would  have  been 
free  long  ago  if  the  masses  had  not  thought  emancipation  would 
make  the  blacks  the  political  and  social  equals  of  the  whites. 
As  soon  as  they  came  to  be  disabused  of  that  notion,  they  would 
have  voted  slavery  out  of  existence  ;  and  when  they  had  done 
that,  the  people  in  the  Cotton  States  would  have  asked  the 
reason  why,  and  then  slavery  on  this  continent  would  have  re- 
ceived its  everlasting  death-blow.  Slavery  cannot  any  longer  live 
in  the  Union.  The  South  can  save  it  only  by  separation  and  a 
despotism." 

After  some  further  conversation  we  separated,  and  early  the 
next  morning  I  set  out  for  Murfreesboro. 


THB  MAN    WHO    "  DON't    SURRENDER   MUCH.''        139 


CHi\PTER  XI. 

THE    MAN    WHO    "  DOn't    SURRENDER    MUCH." 

The  country  below  Xashville  presented  the  same  desolate  ap- 
pearance as  that  through  which  I  had  already  passed.  At  La- 
vergne,  a  whole  town  lay  in  ashes.  On  the  direct  line  of  com- 
munication with  Murfreesboro,  it  had  been  the  scene  of  frequent 
conflicts  between  the  Rebel  ami  the  Union  forces,  and,  one  after 
another,  its  peaceful  habitations*  had  fallen  before  the  flanies. 
Its  inhabitants  had  all  fled,  and  two  or  three  smoke-begrimed 
cabins  were  all  that  remained  of  the  once  thriving  and  happy 
village. 

"  I  was  in  the  front  room  of  that  small  house  yonder,"  said 
Captain  Firman,  of  General  Wheeler's  staff,  to  me  a  few  weeks 
later,  as  we  halted  at  this  station,  while  he  was  on  his  way,  a 
prisoner  of  war,  to  the  penitentiary  at  Xashville,  "  when  a  shell 
from  one  of  your  batteries  entered  just  beneath  the  window — 
you  can  see  the  hole  from  here — and  exploded  directly  at  the 
feet  of  "Wheeler  and  myself.  A  lady  sat  at  the  piano.  The 
piano  was  shivered  into  a  thousand  fragments,  and  the  lady 
thrown  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  but  not  one  of  us  was 
hurt.  The  general  and  I  made  a  hasty  exit  by  the  rear  door, 
but  our  companion,  in  her  fright,  ran  out  at  the  front.  As  she 
came  under  that  old  tree  standing  by  the  corner  of  the  house, 


14:0  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

another  shell  burst  over  her  head,  and  its  fragments  fell  all  around 
her,  but,  strange  to  say,  she  again  escaped  uninjured." 

A  little  elevation  at  the  right  of  the  railway  was  the  scene  of 
one  of  the  most  heroic  exploits  of  the  war.  There  Colonel  Innis 
— warned  by  the  old  negro  I  have  introduced  to  the  reader — 
with  a  little  band  of  three  hundred  and  eighty-nine  Michigan 
men,  without  artillery  or  other  defence  than  a  hastily  thrown  up 
barricade  of  camp-wagons  and  underbrush,  beat  off  Wheeler's 
whole  force  of  three  thousand  horse  and  two  field-pieces. 

"  Colonel  Innis,"  said  General  Rosecrans  to  him  on  the  eve  of 
the  battle  of  Stone  River,  "  will  you  hold  Lavergne  ?" 

"  I'll  try,  gener-al." 

"  I  ask  if  you  will  do  it !"  exclaimed  the  laconic  general. 

"  I  WILL,"  quietly  responded  the  colonel,  and  he  kept  his  word. 

Just  as  the  New  Year's  sifti  was  sending  its  first  greeting  to 
the  little  band  that  crouched  there  behind  the  wagons,  the  head 
of  the  Rebel  column  emerged  from  the  woods  which  skirt  the 
southern  side  of  the  town,  and  Captain  Firman,  riding  forward 
to  the  flimsy  breast-work,  cried  out : 

"  General  Wheeler  demands  an  instant  and  unconditional  sur- 
render." 

"  Give  General  Wheeler  my  compliments,  and  tell  him  we 
don't  surrender  much,"  came  back  to  him  from  behind  the  brush- 
heaps. 

Mounting  then  his  Kentucky  roan,  the  heroic  colonel  rode 
slowly  around  the  rude  intrenchment.  "  Boys,"  he  said,  "  they 
are  three  thousand — have  you  said  your  prayers  ?" 

"  We  are  ready,  Colonel    Let  them  come  on !"  answered  the 
brave  Michigan  men. 
And  they  did  come  on  ! 


THE  MAN  WHO  "  DON't  SURRENDER  MUCH."   141 

"  Six  times  we  swept  down  on  them,"  said  Captain  Firman  to 
me,  "  and  six  times  I  rode  up  with  a  flag,  and  summoned  them 
to  surrender ;  but  each  time  Innis  sent  back  the  message,  varied, 
now  and  then,  with  an  adjective,  '  We  don't  surrender  much.' 
He  sat  his  horse  during  the  first  charges,  as  if  on  dress  parade ; 
but  at  the  third  fire  I  saw  him  go  down.  I  thought  we  had 
winged  him,  but  when  we  charged  again,  there  he  sat  as  cool  as 
if  the  thermometer  had  been  at  zero.  One  of  our  men  took  de- 
Hberate  aim,  and  again  he  went  down ;  but  when  I  rode  up  the 
fifth  time  and  shouted,  '  We'll  not  summon  you  again — surren- 
der at  once !'  it  was  Innis  who  yelled  out,  '  Pray  don't,  for  we 
don't  surrender  muck.^  At  the  seventh  charge  I  was  wounded, 
and  the  general  sent  another  ofiicer.  with  the  summons.  Your 
people  halted  him  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  breast-work, 
and  an  officer,  in  a  cavalryman's  overcoat,  came  out  to  meet  him. 
['  They  had  killed  my  two  horses,'  said  Colonel  Innis  to  me 
afterwards,  *  and  I  was  afraid  they  would  singe  my  uniform — 
the  fire  was  rather  hot — so  I  covered  it.'] 

"  *  What  is  your  rank,  sir  V  demanded  the  Union  officer. 

"  *  Major,  sir.' 

" '  Go  back,  and  tell  General  Wheeler  that  he  insults  me  by 
sending  one  of  your  rank  to  treat  with  one  of  mine.  Tell  him, 
too,  I  have  not  come  here  to  surrender.  I  shall  fire  on  the  next 
flag.' 

"  It  w^as  Innis,  and  by  that  ruse  he  made  us  beUeve  he  had 
received  re-enforcements.  Thinking  it  was  so,  we  drew  ofl^,  and 
the  next  day  Innis  sent  Wheeler  word  by  a  prisoner,  that  he  had 
whipped  us  with  three  hundred  and  eighty-nine  men  !" 

About  a  fortnight  after  my  arrival  at  Murfreesboro,  as  I  sat 
one  morning  reading  a  newspaper  in  the  "  Aides'  Room"  at  head- 


142  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

quarters,  a  tall,  erect,  sinewy-built,  noble-featured  man,  with 
dark  flowing  hair,  a  long,  elastic  stride,  and  a  monstrous  steel- 
hilted  sword  dangling  at  his  heels,  and  clanking  heavily  on  the 
floor  at  his  every  step,  stalked  into  the  room,  and,  giving  me  a 
casual  glance,  entered  General  Garfield's  apartment.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  returned,  and,  stridmg  directly  up  to  me,  said : 

"Sir,  are  you  the  man  who  wrote  'Among  the  Pines?'  " 

There  was  something  in  his  quick,  abrupt  voice  and  decided, 
energetic  manner,  that  made  me  uncertain  of  his  intentions :  so, 
rising  from  my  seat,  and  drawing  myself  up  to  my  full  height, 
I  replied,  in  a  half-defiant  tone  : 

"  I  am,  sir  :  at  your  service." 

"  I  want  to  take  you  by  the  hand,  sir.  God  bless  you !"  was 
the  hearty  response. 

Considerably  relieved,  I  said,  as  I  accepted  his  greeting : 

"And  you  are ?" 

"Colonel  Innis — Innis  of  the  Michigan  Engineers." 

"  Oh !     You  are  the  man,  who  '•dorCt  surrender  much  P  " 

"  Not  much — that  is,  I  never  did." 

Saying  I  would  hke  to  know^  him  better,  I  asked  him  to  be 
seated.  He  sat  down,  and  fought  the  battle  over  again.  When 
he  had  concluded,  I  said : 

"  I  met  an  old  negro  at  Nashville,  who  told  me  he  rode  up 
from  Murfreesboro  and  warned  you  of  WTieeler's  coming.  He 
said  you  made  him  stay  over  night,  and  treated  him  like  a  white 
man." 

"  I  tried  to,  for  he  saved  me  from  a  surprise.  Wheeler  cap- 
tured all  of  my  pickets  before  sunrise,  and  without  the  old  dar- 
key's warning,  I  mightn't  have  been  half  ready.  There  is  noth- 
ing "VMieeler  would  like  so  well  as  to  take  me.     We  have  had 


THE    MAN    WHO    *'DON't    SURRENDER   MUCH."        143 

several  fights,  and  after  each  one  1  have  sent  him  word  how 
many  men  it  took  to  whip  him." 

In  a  western  city,  a  few  weeks  ago,  I  met  the  colonel  again. 
Laying  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  I  accosted  him  with — 

"  And  you've  not  surrendered  yet !" 

"  Not  yet,"  he  replied,  turning  round  and  taking  my  hand ; 
"  but  I've  had  another  brush  with  Wheeler.  Just  after  Chica- 
maun-a  he  came  upon  me  with  nearly  five  thousand  men.  I  beat 
him  off,  and  then  sent  him  word  I  had  whipped  him  with  one- 
half  of  my  regiment." 

The  West  has  sent  many  brave  men  to  the  war,  but  none 
braver  than  Innis. 


144  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BIBLE    SMITH. 

As  I  alighted  from  the  cars  at  Murfreesboro,  the  inevitable 
oflBcial  again  confronted  me. 

"  Can  I  get  a  conveyance  to  Head-quarters  ?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Yes,  there's  an  omnibus  here.  But  the  General's  not  in 
town.     He's  at  the  front." 

"  And  where  can  I  find  lodgings  for  a  few  days  ?" 

"  Don't  know\  There's  not  a  hotel  or  lodging-house  in  the 
place." 

A  town  of  eight  thousand  people  with  not  a  single  inn ! 
Surely  this  was  the  miracle  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

After  a  short  search  I  found  the  omnibus — a  cast-off  North- 
ern coach,  with  a  Yankee  Jehu. 

"  My  friend,"  I  said  to  him,  "  will  you  take  me  where  I  can 
sleep  to-night  ?" 

"  Yes  :  I'll  take  you  to  jail.  It's  the  only  house  here  that 
takes  in  strangers." 

I  was  about  asking  him  to  drive  me  to  Head^quarters,  in  the 
hope  that  my  letters,  even  in  the  General's  absence,  might 
secure  me  a  night's  lodging,  when  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  my 
shoulder,  and  a  strangely  familiar  voice — a  face  we  -may  forget, 
but  a  voice  that  has  once  give^j  us  pleasure,  lingers  in  the 
memory  forever — accosted  me,  as  follows : 


BIBLE    SMITH.  145 

"  I  know'd  it  wus  ye.  I  know'd  ye  the  minnit  I  sot  eyes  on  ye." 

Turning  on  the  speaker,  I  saw  a  spare,  squarely-built,  loose- 
jointed  man,  above  six  feet  liigb,  with  a  strongly  marked  face, 
a  long,  grizzly  beard,  and  silvery  black  hair  hanging  loosely 
over  his  shoulders  like  a  woman's.  He  wore  an  officer's  undress 
coat,  and  the  boots  of  the  cavalry  service,  but  the  rest  of  his 
costume  was  of  the  common  "  butternut"  homespun.  Taking 
his  extended  hand,  and  trying  hard  to  recall  his  features,  I  said 
to  him  : 

"  I  know  your  voice,  but  your  face  I  don't  remember." 

"Doan't  remember  me!  me,  Bible — Bible  Smith!  Why 
rd  a  know'd  ye  ef  yer  face  hed  been  blacker'n  yer  Whig 
principles." 

We  had  not  met  in  many  years,  but  the  name  brought  him 
to  my  remembrance.  Again  grasping  his  hand,  and  shaking  it, 
this  time,  with  a  right  good  will,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  Bible  ;  and  to  see  you  here — true 
to  the  old  flag." 

"  Ye  mought  hev  know'd  thet.  I  know'd  ye  war  right,  ef  ye 
war  a  Whig.  But  ye  wants  ter  git  under  kiver.  I  knows  a 
old  'ooman  yere — she's  secesh  way  up  ter  the  yeres,  an'  her 
fixins  hain't  nothin'  loike  whot  ye  gits  in  York,  but  I  reckon 
ef  I  ax  her,  she'll  take  ye  in." 

"  xVny  place  will  do  till  the  General  returns — I  have  letters 
to  him." 

The  omnibus  man  went  in  quest  of  my  trunk,  and  in  a  short 
time,  accompanied  by  my  new-found  friend,  I  was  on  my  way 
to  the  house  of  the  Secession  lady.  Before  going  thither  I  will 
make  the  reader  somewhat  acquainted  with  my  companion, 
in  the  hope  that  what  I  shall  say  of  him  may  lead  the  public 

7 


146  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

to  think  better  of  the  whole  edition  of  Southern  "Bibles," 
who,  though  badly  "  bound,"  and  sadly  deficient  in  the  way  of 
"lettering"  and  "embellishment,"  have  about  as  much  homely 
truth  and  genuine  worth  as  the  more  gilded  things  found  in 
higher  latitudes. 

Late  in  November,  1850,  as  I  was  journeying  on  horseback 
from  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama,  to  Louisville,  Kentucky,  I  was  over- 
taken by  a  storm,  just  at  night-fall,  and  forced  to  ask  shelter  at 
a  small  farm-house  near  the  little  town  of  Eichmond,  in  Bedford 
County,  Tennessee.  The  house  stood  in  a  small  clearing,  a 
short  distance  from  the  highway,  and  was  one  story  high,  of 
hewn  logs  nicely  chinked  and  whitewashed,  with  a  project- 
ing roof,  a  broad,  open  piazza,  and  an  enormous  brick  chim- 
ney-stack protruding  at  either  gable.  As  I  rode  up  to  it,  the 
farmer  came  out  to  meet  me.  lie  was  dressed  in  homespun, 
and  had  a  wiry,  athletic  frame,  a  dark,  sun-browned  complexion, 
an  open,  manly  face,  and  a  frank,  cordial  manner  that  won  my 
confidence  in  a  moment.  With  thirteen  years  less  of  life  and 
a  century  less  of  hardship,  he  was  the  same  man  who  met  me 
at  the  Murfreesboro  railway  station.  He  bade  me  "  good  even- 
in'  "  as  1  approached  him,  and  returning  his  salutation,  I  asked 
him  for  shelter  for  myself  and  horse. 

"  Sartin,  Stranger,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  nuver  turned  away  one  o* 
God's  images  yit,  ef  they  wus  a  Yankee — an'  some  o'  them  is 
dreflful  pore  likenesses,  ye  m ought  bet  a  pile  on  thet." 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  am  a  Yankee  ?"  I  asked,  smiling. 

"  I  sees  it  all  over  ye.  But,  come,  alight ;  ye's  welcome  ter 
all  I  hes,  an'  ef  ye  kin  spin  a  yarn,  or  tell  a  lie,  ony  bigger'n  I 
kin,  I'll  'low  a  Yankee  ar  smarter'n  a  Tennesseean — an'  I  nuver 
know'd  one  as  war  yit." 


BIBLE   SMITH.  147 

Dismounting:,  I  requested  him  to  give  my  horse  some  oats, 
remarking  that  I  made  free  with  him,  because  I  expected  to 
pay  for  what  I  had. 

*'  Pay !"  he  exclaimed ;  '*  Nuver  ye  tork  uv  pay,  Stranger, 
'tween  two  sich  men  as  ye  an'  me  is,  or  ye'Il  make  me  fight 
another  duek  It's  agin  my  principles,  but  I  fit  one  oust,  an'  it 
mought  be  yc  wouldn't  loike  ter  hev  me  fit  another." 

"  Not  with  me,  I  assure  you.  I'd  take  free  quarters  with 
you  for  a  month  rather  than  fight  a  duel." 

"  Yer  a  sensible  man  ;  fur  I  shiid,  fur  shore,  sarve  ye  jest  as 
I  done  Clingman — thet  famous  North  Car'Iina  chap.  P'raps 
ye  nuver  yered  how  I  fit  him  ?" 

*'  Xo,  I  never  did,"  I  replied. 

"Wall,  I'll  tell  ye  on  it.  But  yere,  Jake"  (to  a  stout,  cheer- 
ful negro,  who  just  then  appeared  at  the  corner  of  the  house), 
"  Yere,  Jak6,  tuck  the  gen'leman's  nag,  rub  him  down,  an'  guv 
him  some  oats,  an'  mind,  doau't  ye  guv  no  parson's  measure 
wuth  the  oats." 

"  Nuver  you  far,  Massa.  Jake'U  gub  it  ter  'im  cliock-heap- 
in' — loike  you  gub's  eberyting,  Massa,"  rejoined  the  negro, 
bounding  nimbly  into  the.  saddle,  and  riding  oif  to  the  barn- 
yard. 

The  farmer  then  turned  and  led  the  way  into  the  house.  At 
the  door  of  the  sitting-room  we  were  met  by  his  wife — a 
comely,  dark-eyed  woman  of  about  thirty,  neatly  clad  in  a  calico 
gown,  with  shoes  and  stockings  (a  rarity  in  that  region)  on  her 
feet,  and  a  spotless  lace  cap  perching  cosily  on  the  back  of  her 
bead. 

"  Sally,"  said  my  host,  as  we  entered  the  room,  "  yere'r  a 
stranger,  so,  tuck  him   in ;  guv  him  fritters  an'  apple-jack  fur 


148  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

Slipper,  far  hc'm  a  Yankee,  an'  thars  no  tellin'  but  ye  mought 
save  the  kentry  ef  ye  made  bim  fall  in  love  wutb  ye." 

The  good  woman  langbed,  gave  me  a  cordial  greeting,  asked 
me  to  a  seat  by  the  lire,  and  went  about  preparing  supper.  As 
I  seated  myself  with  her  husband,  by  the  broad  hearth-stone,  I 
glanced  around  the  apartment.  It  occupied  one-half  of  the 
building,  and  had  a  most  cosey  and  comfortable  appearance. 
On  the  floor  was  a  tidy  rag  carpet,  and  the  plastered  walls  were 
covered  with  a  modest  paper,  and  ornamented  with  a  half 
dozen  neatly-framed  engravings.  A  gilded  looking-glass,  fes- 
tooned with  sprigs  of  evergreen,  hung  between  the  front  win- 
dows, and  opposite  to  it  stood  a  huge  piece  of  mahogany,  half 
a  side-board,  half  a  bureau,  which  in  its  day  had  graced  some 
statelier  mansion.  A  dozen  rustic  arm-chairs,  covered  with  un- 
tanned  deerskin,  a  small  stand  in  the  corner,  piled  high  with 
such  books  as  the  Bible,  The  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,*  and  "  Dodd- 
ridge's Expositor,"  and  a  large  pine  table,  on  which  my  hostess 
was  arranging  the  tea-things,  completed  the  furniture  of  the 
room.  A  little  boy  of  five  and  a  Httle  girl  of  seven  were  help- 
ing the  good  wife  set  the  tea-table,  and  through  an  open  door 
at  the  rear,  I  saw  an  older  child,  with  her  mother's  dark-brown 
hair  and  her'  father's  expressive  features,  busily  frying  the  frit- 
ters over  the  kitchen  fire. 

After  asking  me  where  I  "  come  from,"  where  I  *'  mought  be 
a  moseyin'  ter,"  and  other  similar  questions,  my  host  said  : 

"  So,  ye  nuver  yered  how  I  fit  Clingman — thet  big  Whig 
chap  over  thar  ter  North  Carolina  ?" 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  never  did,  but  I  would  like  to,  for  I 
know  Clingman,  and  am  a  Whig  myself." 

"  Ye  is  !     Wall,  Fd  nuver  a  thort  it^ter  luck  at  ye  ;  an'  it  do 


BIBLE   SMITH.  149 

*pear  sort  o'  quar  ter  me  thet  ony  white  man  kin  go  agin  free 
school,  free  speech,  free  thort,  and  free  a'r  fur  all  o'  God's 
critters,  but  ye  does,  ef  ye's  a  Wliig,  or  I  liain't  read  the  dic- 
tionary !" 

"  What  dictionary  have  you  read  that  in  ?"  I  asked. 
"Wall,  ter  tell  ye  the  truth.  Stranger— an'  thet,  though  it'r 
gittin'  out  o'  fashion,  ar  what  we  orter  do — /  nuver  read  it  in 
nary  one :  Sally,  ye  sees,   do   all  the  readin'   uv  the  fan  bly. 
But,  I  allers  reckoned  them  wus  whig  principles." 
"  And  what  are  democratic  principles  ?" 
"  Jest  the  contrary.     Thet's  whot  dimmocrat  means.     Whig 
ar  only    another  name  fur  big;    an'  it  means    big-bugs,   fur 
all  o'  them  goes  thet  way.     But  they  karn't  hev  my  vote,  no- 
how.    I  goes  fur  the  Decleration  uv  Independence — life,   lib- 
erty, an'  the  pursoot  uv  whot  ye  loikes.     I'se  got  it — hangin' 
up  thar  agin  the  wall.     The  man  as  writ  thet  war  some  pun- 
kins." 

"Yes,  he  was,  and  it's  a  good  thing  to  have  in  the  house. 
But,  tell  me  about  your  duel  with  Clingman." 

"  W'all,  ye  sees,  it  war  jest  afore  the  last  'lection,  when  ye 
put  in  ole  Zack  fur  President.  The  Whigs  they  had  a  big 
barbacue  down  ter  Richmond,  an'  Clingman  an'  a  hull  lot  uv 
'em  went  inter  speechifying  ter  kill.  W^all,  in  the  coorse  uv 
Clingman's  speech  he  said  thet  Cass,  our  canderdate,  wus  a 
nigger-trader  down  thar  ter  Newbern  way,  an'  wus  in  jail  fur 
passin'  counterfit  money,  an'  ef  we  'lected  him,  we'd  hev  ter 
bail  him  out  ter  'naugerate  him.  Now,  I  couldn't  stand  thet,  no 
how,  so  I  right  up  in  meetin',  an'  telled  Clingman  he  lied  loike 
blazes.  Wall,  he  stopped  short  ter  oust,  an'  axed  me  fur  my 
redress." 


150  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"^rfdress,"  said  his  wife,  pausing  in  her  work,  and  looking 
pleasantly  at  me. 

*'Thet's«o,  Sally,"  replied  the  farmer.  ''I  telled  ye,  Stran- 
ger, Sally  hes  all  the  larnin'  uv  the  fambly.  She's  a  quality 
'ooman — she  is !  Wall,  I  guv  Clingman  my  name,  an'  whar  I 
hung  out,  an',  shore  'nuff,  jest  arter  dark,  a  Ji^ller  rid  up  yere 
wuth  a  challunge,  all  writ  out  in  Clingman's  own  hand — an'  ye 
knows  he's  a  right  smart  scholard,  an'  a  durned  clever  feller  ter 
boot,  ef  he  ar  a  AVhig.  I  couldn't  read  the  thing — I  hain't  got 
no  furder  nur  prent  yit — so  I  guv  it  ter  Sally.  Sally  she 
screeched  out  when  she  seed  whot  it  war  'bout,  but  I  telled  har 
ter  stand  up,  an'  die  loike  a  man,  an'  so — she  sot  down,  an' 
'cepted  the  challunge.  Now,  ye  knows,  the  challunged  'un 
allers  hes  the  chise  o'  weapons,  so  I  said  I'd  hev  swords, 
mounted." 

"Then  you  are  familiar  with  sword  practice?"  I  remarked. 

*'  Furmilye  wuth  it !  I  nuver  seed  raore'n  one  sword,  in 
all  my  borned  days,  an'  thet  war  so  durned  rusty  a  ox-team 
couldn't  dror  it.  It  hung  over  dad's  front  door  when  I  war  a. 
young  'un.  Dad  said  he  fit  wuth  it  ter  Cowpens,  but  I  know'd 
he  didn't,  'case  he  couldn't  ha'  been  more'n  two  y'ar  old  at 
thet  writin',  an'  he  aller^hed  a  awful  way  o'  lyin'. 

"  Wall,  I  said  swords,  mounted,  at  sun-up  the  next  mornin', 
over  agin  my  r'ar  pinery.  Now,  I  hes  a  drefFul  smart  ox-brute 
thet  I'se  a  raised  up  fur  my  privat'  ridin' — ye  knows,  we  uses 
them  ciitters  jest  as  ye  does  bosses.  The  brute  he  doan't  loike 
a  spur,  an'  when  ye  puts  one  inter  'im,  he'll  pitch,  head-fore- 
mose,  inter  the  fust  thing  he  comes  ter,  be  it  man  or  beast. 
Wall,  in  the  mornin'  I  tuck  out  the  cow-horn  (ye'd  think  Ga- 
briel war  a  soundin'  the  last  trump  when  I  blow^s  it),  cut  a  right 


BIBLE    SMITH.  151 

smart  stick  fur  a  sword,  put  it  inter  a  yallcr  bag  thet  lucked 
loike  a  scabbard,  got  out  the  ox-brute,  tied  a  red  rag  ter  Lis 
horns,  put  on  him  my  wife's  best  kiverlet — Sally  hed  it  agin  we 
got  morried ;  it  hes  more  colors  nur  Joseph's  coat,  but  red  an' 
yaller  dominates.  Wall,  I  put  on  the  kiverlet  fur  a  saddle,  an' 
moseyed  off  ter  the  dueling  ground. 

"  Clingman,  he  war  thar,  wuth  two  seconds,  a  doctor,  an'  a  hull 
'poth'ecary  store  uv  cuttin'  instruments,  all  waitin'  an'  ready  ter 
make  mince-meat  uv  my  carcass.  Soon  as  he  seed  how  I  war 
'coutered,  he  up  an'  'jected  ter  fightin',  but  I  counted  out  the 
terms  uv  the  duel — swords,  mounted — an'  I  telled  him  ef  he 
didn't  stand,  an'  fight  loike  a  man,  I'd  post  him  all  over  the 
State  o'  North  Car'lina  fur  a  coward.  Wall,  finarly  he  'eluded 
ter  do  it.  So,  we  tuck  our  stands,  the  seconds  tliey'guv  the 
word,  Clingman  he  put  spurs  inter  his  boss,  an'  I  put  spurs 
inter  mine,  an',  Stranger,  ye'd  better  b'lieve  when  my  ox  mo- 
seved  down  onter  his  mar,  wuth  horn  a  blowin',  an'  kiverlet  a 
flvin',  the  mar  she  piked  out  quicker'n  a  whirlygust  chasin'  a 
streak  o'  lightnin',  an'  she  nuver  belt  up  till  she  got  clean  inter 
North  Car'lina.  I'se  allers  telled  Sally  sense  thet  thet  kiverlet 
ar  the  flag  I  means  ter  live  under,  ter  sleep  under,  an'  ter  die 
under."  * 

When  I  had  somewhat  recovered  from  the  immoderate  fit  of 
laughter  which  expressed  my  appreciation  of  the  farmer's  story, 
his  comely  wife  said  to  me : 

"Fotch  up  yer  cheer.  Stranger.  We  hain't  nothin'  'cept 
common  doin's,  but  we's  'nuff  o'  them." 


♦Subsequent  inquiry  satisfied  me  that  Bible's  account  of  this  singu- 
lar duel  was  substantially  true. 


152  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

down  with  bacon,  venison,  wild  fowl,  hominy,  corn-pone,  frit- 
ters, tea,  cider,  and  apple-jack,  all  heaped  upon  it  in  promiscu- 
ous confusion.  I  had  ridden  far,  and  eaten  nothing  since  the 
morning,  but  I  might  have  relished  the  viands  had  my  appetite 
been  much  daintier  than  it  was. 

A  desultory  conversation  followed  till  the  close  of  the  meal. 
When  it  was  over,  again  seating  myself  with  the  farmer  before 
the  blazing  light-wood  fire,  while  his  wife  and  elder  daughter 
went  about  clearing  away  the  tea-things,  I  said  to  him  : 

"  You  guessed  rightly,  my  friend,  lama  Yankee,  and  I  have 
the  Yankee  way  of  asking  questions.  Now,  I  want  to  ask  you 
how  you  live,  what  you  raise,  how  many  negroes  you  have — all 
about  yourself,  for  I've  already  fallen  in  love  with  you  and — 
your  wife." 

"Fall'n  in  love  wuth  me/  ha!  ha!"  echoed  the  farmer. 
**  Stranger,  /  nuver  fell  in  love  wuth  nary  man  'cept  Sally,  but 
I  fell  inter  it  so  deep  wuth  she  thet  I'se  willin'  all  creation  shud 
love  bar  jest  loike  I  does— an'  they  wud,  ef  they  only  know'd 
har  so  wall  as  me." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  they  would.  Does  she  do  all  her  own 
housework  ?" 

"Uvery  thing — she  an' the  little  gal.  She  woan't  hev  no 
lazy  nigger  wimmin  round.  Thef  make  more  wuck  nur  they 
does." 

"Do  yer  wife  wuck,  Stranger?"  asked  the  lady:  "They 
say  wimmin  all  wucks  ter  the  North." 

"  Nearly  all  do — except  my  wife.  She  don't,  because  I  have 
none.  But  I  intend  to  have  one.  I  shall  probably  wait  till 
your  husband  breaks  his  neck,  and  then  pop  the  question  to 
you." 


BIBLE    SMITU.  153 

"  Wall,  I  reckon  I'd  liev  ye,  fur  I'se  sort  o'  tuck  ter  ye. 
'Pears  loike  ye  Northern  gentlemen  Lain't  stuck  up,  an'  doan't 
'count  tharselfs  no  better  nur  wuckin'  folk,  like  the  'ristocracts 
does  round  yere." 

"The  heart,  not  the  wealth  or  the  intellect,  Madam,  makes 
the  true  aristocracy,"  I  replied,  gravely. 

**Thot's  whot  our  parson  sez;  an'  in  heaven,  he  sez,  them  as 
gits  the  highest  hes  hearts  jest  loike  little  childerin' — thet  loves 
uvery  thing,  an'  uvery  body,  an'  hain't  no  larnin'  at  all.  Ef 
thet's  so,  Bible'il  be  one  on  the  biggest  on  'em,  fur  he's  got 
nigh  ter  no  larnin' — he  kin  only  jest  make  out  ter  spell — an'  his 
heart  ar  big  'nuff  ter  holt  all  o'  creation." 

"  Doan't  ye  say  thet,  Sally,"  said  the  farmer,  looking  at  his 
wife  with  a  tender  light  in  his  eyes,  and  a  beautiful  smile  on 
his  rough  features:  "The  Lord  moughtn't  be  uv  yer  'pinion." 

"  Yas,  He  ar,  fur  He  knows  ye  jest  loike  I  does." 

The  farmer  made  no  reply,  and  a  short  silence  followed.  I 
broke  it  by  saying  : 

"  Come,  Bible,  answer  my  questions — tell  me  all  about  your- 
self." 

"  Thet  hain't  my  name.  Stranger,  though  it'r  whot  T  goes  by. 
Ye  sees,  my  name  ar  Smith,  an'  dad  chrisund  me  Jehosha- 
phat^^ — ter  'stinguish  me  frum  the  t'other  Smiths,  but,  somehow, 
it  got  shortened  ter  Bible,  an'  it'r  been  Bible  unter  this  day. 
Wall,  I  wuck'd  'long  uv  dad  till  I  war  twenty-one,  fur  the  ole 
'un  he  said  he'd  a  fotched  me  up  when  1  war  a  young  'un,  an' 
he  war  bound  ter  git  his  pay  out  o'  me  agin  I  war  grow'd, 
an' — he  done  it. 


*  His  name  accordiog  to  the  army  rolls,  is  "VriLiJAM  J.  Smith. 

7* 


154  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

'*  Wall,  the  day  I  war  iiv  age,  dad  axed  me  out  ter  the  barn, 
an'  totein'  out  a  mule-brute  as  hed  been  in  the  fambly  uver  sense 
Adam  warn't  no  higher'n  lettle  Sally,  he  sez  ter  me,  sez  he: 
'  Thar,  Bible,  thar's  my  last  wull  an'  testamunt — tuck  it,  an* 
gwo  an'  seek  yer  fortim'.'  I  hadn't  nary  chise,  so,  I  tuck  the 
mule-brute  an'  moseyed  out  ter  seek  my  fortun'.  I  squatted 
down  right  squar  outer  this  dead'nin',  hired  my  nig;  Jake  (I 
owns  him  now),  an'  me,  an'  Jake,  an'  the  mule-brute  went  ter 
wuck  loike  blazes — all  but  the  mule-brute — he  war  too  tarnal 
lazy  ter  wuck;  he  war  so  lazy  I  hed  ter  git  my  ox  ter  holp  him 
dror  his  last  breath.  Wall,  Jake  an'  me  added  acre  ter  acre, 
and  mule-brute  ter  mule-brute,  as  the  Scriptur  sez,  till  fiuarly  I 
got  ter  be  right  wall  forehanded.  Then,  one  day,  I  sez  ter 
Jake  :  '  Jake,'  sez  I,  *  ye's  got  a  w^ife,  an'  ye  knows  whot  dur- 
mestic  furlicity  is — ter  be  shore  ye  hes  ter  keep  it  seven  mile 
away,  an'  it  b'longs  ter  a  durned  'ristocrat,  but  whot's  thet 
when  I  guvs  ye  Saturday  arternoons  an'  Sundays,  all  ter  yer- 
self — now,  /  hain't  nary  furlicity  at  all :  whot  shill  I  do.' 

" '  Git  a  wife,  Massa,'  sez  Jake  ;  'git  a  wife,  Massa.  But 
dar's  mighty  fine  fish  in  de  sea,  Massa,  so  doan't  ye  kotch  no 
dolphins  whot  shows  dar  colors  in  de  sun  but  neber  comes  ter 
de  suflface  when  it  rains.  Saddle  de  mar,  Massa,  an'  gwo  out  on  a 
'splorin'  expedition ;  Jake'll  luck  arter  dc  fixin's  while  j^u'm 
away.'  Now,  thet  nig  ar  allers  right — he's  got  a  head  longer'n 
the  moral  law — so,  I  saddled  the  mar,  an'  sallied  out  arter 
Sally. 

"  I  hed  ter  scour  nigh  'bout  all  o'  creation,  an'  it  tuck  me  four 
hull  months  ter  do  it,  but — I  found  har.  Soon  as  I  sot  eyes 
on  har  I  know'd  it  war  she,  an'  I  telled  har  so,  but  she  say  : 
^Ye  must  ax  Par.'     (Sally  hes  book-breedin',  ye  sees,  so  she 


BIBLE    SMITH.  155 

aez  par  instead  o'  dad,  wliich  ar'  the  nat'ral  way.)  Wall,  I 
axed  '  par' — he's  one  on  yer  quality  folk,  been  ter  Congress, 
an'  only  missed  bein'  Guv'ner  by— not  gittin'  the  nomnrnation. 
I  axed  him,  an'  he  shuck  his  head,  but  I  guv  him  jest  a  week 
ter  think  on  it,  an'  -moseyed  out  ter  git  ready  agin  the  weddin'. 
I  know'd  he'd  come  round,  an'  he  done  it.  So  I  sez  ter  Sally : 
*  Sally,'  sez  I :  '  we'll  be  raorried  ter-raorrer.' 

"  *  Ter-morrer  r  screeched  Sally,  holtin'  up    bar  hands,  an' 
openin'  bar  eyes;  'Why  I  hain't  a  ready.     I  hain't  no  does!' 
"  '  Cloes  !'  sez  I ;  '  nuver  mind  yer  does — I  doan't  morry  ye 
fur  them.' 

"So  Sally  she  consented,  an'  I  piked  out  fur  a  parson. 
Now,  thar  warn't  none  nigher'n  over  a  branch,  an'  it  so  hap- 
piii'd  it  rained  loike  blazes  thet  night,  an'  toted  off  all  the 
bridges,  so  when  the  parson  an'  me  got  down  ter  the  run  jest 
arter  noon  the  next  day— .we  wus  ter  a  been  morried  at  levin'— 
thar  warn't  no  way  o'  crossin',  but— thar  war  Sally,  on  the  t'other 
side  uv  the  run,  in  bar  sun-bunnet  an'  a  big  umbrdl',  onpa- 
tiently  waitin'  fur  us.  Thar  warn't  no  other  how,  so  I  sez  ter 
the  parson:  'Parson,'  sez  I:  'say  over  the  Prayer-Book— 
Sally's  got  the  hull  uv  it  by  heart  agin  this  time— we'll  be  mor- 
ried  ter  onst,  right  yere.'  So,  the  parson  he  said  over  the 
Prayer-Book,  Sally  she  made  the  'spouses- all  'bout  the  'beyin' 
an'  so  on— an'  we's  been  man  an'  wife  uver  sense ;  an'  Stranger, 
I  doan't  koer  whar  the  t'other  'ooman  ar',  thar  hain't  nary  one 
livin'  quite  up  ter  Sally." 

"An'  does  ye  b'lieve  thet  story.  Stranger?"  asked  Sally,  who, 
having  finished  clearing  away  the  tea-things,  had,  with  the  older 
daughter,  and  the  younger  children,  taken  a  seat  near  me  in  tho 
chimney-corner. 


156  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  do.     Not  altogether,"  I  replied. 

"  I'm  glad  OD  it,  far  we  wus  morried  in  a  house,  loike  Chris- 
tun  people — we  wus." 

"  Is  Jake  your  only  slave  ?"  I  asked  the  farmer  after  a  while. 

"  Yas,  he'r  my  only  'un,  but  he's  as  good  ^s  ony  two  ye  uver 
know'd  on.  Ye  sees,  I  raises  nigh  on  ter  no  craps  'cept  mule- 
brutes  an'  horned  critters,  an'  them,  ye  knows,  browse  in  the 
woods,  an'  doan't  make  much  wuck." 

If  this  chapter  were  not  already  too  long  I  would  tell  the 
reader  more  of  this  farmer's  family ;  how  every  thing  about 
the  house  and  out-buildings  was  the  model  of  neatness ;  how 
the  comely  housewife  strove,  with  grace  and  cheerfulness,  to  do 
honor  to  a  stranger  guest;  how  tidily  she  kept  her  handsome 
brood,  all  clad  in  homespun  of  her  own  weaving,  and  her  own 
making ;  how  the  younger  children  climbed  their  father's  knee, 
pulled  his  beard,  and  laughed  at  his  stories,  as  if  they  had  never 
heard  them  before  ;  how  nimbly  the  elder  daughter  sprang  to  do 
her  mother's  bidding,  how  she  fetched  the  apples  from  the  loft, 
and  the  apple^/ac^  from  the  pantry,  and,  between  times,  helped 
to  lull  the  sleepy  little  ones  to  sleep,  or  to  keep  them,  wakeful, 
out  of  mischief;  how  when  we  parted  for  the  night,  Sally  read 
a  chapter  from  the  big  Bible,  and  then,  all  kneeling  down,  made 
such  a  prayer  as  the  Good  All  Father  loves  to  hear ;  how 
when  I  bade  them  "good-bye"  in  the  morning,  all  had  to  kiss 
me,  from  the  mother  to  the  youngest;  and  how  Bible,  giv- 
ing me  a  parting  grasp  of  the  hand,  said  as  I  mounted  to  ride 
away : 

*'  Come  out  an'  settle  yere,  Stranger ;  we'll  send  ye  ter  Con- 
gress— the  man  as  hes  cheek  enuff  ter  kiss  a  man's  wife  afore 
his  vury  face,  kin  git  t)ny  office  in  this  part  o'  the  kentry  !" 


BIBLE    SMITU.  157 

Of  all  this  and  more,  I  would  like  to  tell,  but  have  I  not 
already  said  enough  to  show  that  true  worth  and  real  manliness 
exist  among  the  "  poor  whites"  of  the  South  ?  Though  igno- 
rant and  illiterate,  uncouth  of  speech,  and  ungainly  of  manner, 
have  not  those  who  so  well  observe  the  obligations  of  husband 
and  father,  mother  and  wife  and  daughter,  learned  some  of  the 
higher  duties  of  life  ? 


158  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


BIBLE  S    STORY. 


Seated  after  dinner  on  the  piazza  of  the  hospitable  Southern 
lady,  Bible  told  me  his  story. 

He  had  been  stripped  of  all  his  property,  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren had  been  driven  from  their  home,  his  house  had  been 
burned  to  the  ground,  and  he  himself  hunted  through  the 
woods  like  a  wild  beast,  because  he  had  remained  true  to  what 
he  called  democratic  principles — "free  schools,  free  speech,  free 
thought  and  free  a'r  far  all  o'  God's  critters." 

The  world  went  well  with  him  till  the  breaking  out  of  the 
Rebellion.  That  event  found  him  the  owner  of  fifteen  likely 
negroes,  a  fine  plantation  of  nine  hundred  and  thirty  acres,  and  a 
comfortable  framed  dwelling  and  out-buildings.  His  elder  daugh- 
ter had  married  a  young  farmer  of  the  district,  and  his  younger — 
little  Sally,  whom  I  remembered  as  a  rosy-cheeked,  meek-eyed 
wee  thing  of  only  seven  years — had  grown  up  a  woman. 

In  the  spring  of  1861,  when  there  were  no  Union  troops 
south  of  the  Ohio,  and  the  secession  fever  was  raging  furiously 
all  over  his  county,  he  organized  one  hundred  and  six  of  his 
neighbors  into  a  company  of  Home  Guards,  and  was  elected 
their  captain.  They  were  pledged  to  resist  all  attacks  on 
the  person  or  property  of  any  of  their  number,  and  met  fre- 
quently in  the  woods  in  the  vicinity  of  their  homes.  This  or- 
ganization secured  Bible   safety   and  free  expression  of  opinion 


159 

till  long  after  Tennessee  went  out  of  the  Union.  In  fact,  he 
felt  so  secure  that,  in  1862 — a  year  after  the  State  seceded — 
nnder  the  protection  of  his  band  of  Home  Guards,  lie  inaugu- 
rated and  carried  through  a  celebration  of  Ihe  fourth  of  July  at 
Richmond,  Tennessee,  under  the  very  guns  of  a  rebel  regiment 
then  forming  in  the  town. 

An  act  of  so  much  temerity  naturally  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  Confederate  authorities,  and  npt  long  afterwards  he  was 
roused  from  his  bed  one  morning  before  day-break,  by  three 
hundred  armed  men,  who  told  him  that  he  was  a  pris- 
oner, and  that  all  his  property  was  confiscated  to  the  Govern* 
ment.  They  at  once  enforced  the  "  confiscation  act ;"  "  and 
this,"  he  said,  taking  from  his  wallet  a  piece  of  soiled  paper, 
"  ar'  whot  I  hed  ter  'tribute  ter  the  dingnation  consarn.  It'r 
Sally's  own  handwrite,  an'  I  knows  ye  loikes  har,  so,  ye  kin  hev 
it,  fur  it'll  nuver  be  nv  no  manner  uv  account  ter  me." 

The  schedule  is  now  before  me,  and  I  copy  it  verbatim  :  "  14 
men  and  wimrain"  (Jake  eluded  the  soldiers  and  escaped  to  the 
woods),  "  1600  barrils  corn,  130  sheeps,  VOO  bushls  wheat,  440 
barley,  100  rye,  27  mules,  5  cow-brutes,  105  head  hogs,  17 
horses  and  mars,  and  all  they  cud  tote  beside." 

"Wall,  they  tied  me,  hand  an'  fut,"  he  continued;  "an' 
toted  me  oflf  ter  the  Military  Commission  sittin'  ter  Chattanooga. 
I  know'd  whot  thet  meant — a  short  prayer,  a  long  rope,  an'  a 
break-down  danced  on  the  top  o'  nothin'.  Better  men  nur  me 
hed  gone  thet  wav  ter  the  Kingdom — sevin  on  'em  wuthin  a 
month — but  I  detarmined  I  wouldn't  go.  ef  I  could  holp  it ;  not 
thet  I  'jected  ter  the  journey,  only  ter  goin'  afore  uv  Sally. 
Ye  sees,  I  hedn't  been  nigh  so  good  a  man  as  I'd  orter  be,  an'  I 
reckoned  Sally — who,  ye  knows,  ar  the  best  'ooman  thet  uver 


160  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

lived — I  reckoned  she,  ef  she  got  thar  a  leetle  afore  o'  me,  could 
sort  o'  put  in  a  good  word  wuth  the  Lord,  an'  git  Ilim  ter  shot 
His  eyes  ter  a  heap  o'  my  doin's ;  an'  sides,  I  should,  I  know'd, 
feel  a  mighty  strange  loike  up  thar  without  har.  Wall,  I  de- 
tarrained  not  ter  go,  so  thet  night,  as  we  war  camped  out"  on  the 
ground,  I  slid  the  coil,  stole  a  nag,  an'  moseyed  off.  IIow- 
sumuver,  I  hedn't  got  more'n  a  hun'red  rods,  'fore  the  durned 
Secesh  yered  me,  an'  the  bullets  fell  round  me  thicker'n  tar  in 
January.  They  hit  the  hoss,  winged  me  a  trifle,  an'  in  less  nur 
ten  minnits,  hed  me  tigliter'n  uver.  They  swore  a  streak  uv 
blue  brimstun',  an'  said  they'd  string  me  up  ter  oust,  but  I  telled 
'em  they  wouldn't,  'case  I  know'd  I  war  a  gwine  ter  live  ter 
help  do  thet  ar'  same  turn  fur  Jeff.  Davis.  Wall,  I  s'pose  my 
impudence  hed  suthin'  ter  do  wuth  it,  fur  they  didn't  hang  me — 

ye    mought   know  thet,   Mr.  ,  fur,    ye    sees,   I   hes   a 

good  neck  fur  stretchin'  yit." 

"Wall  we  got  ter  Chattanooga  jest  arter  noon.  The  Com- 
mission they  hed  too  many  on  hand  thet  day  ter  'tend  ter  my 
case,  an'  the  jail  wus  chock-heapin',  so  they  put  me  inter  a  tent 
under  guard  uv  a  hull  Georgy  regiment.  Things  luck'd 
'mazin'  squally,  an'  much  as  I  detarmined  ter  be  a  man,  my 
heart  went  clean  down  inter  my  boots  whenuver  I  thort  uv 
Sally.  I  nuver  felt  so,  afore  or  sence,  fur  then  I  hedn't  got 
used  ter  luckin'  at  the  gallus  uvery  day. 

"  Wall,  /didn't  know  whot  ter  do,  but  thinkin'  the  Lord  did, 
I  kneeled  down  an'  prayed  right  smart.  I  telled  Him  I  hedn't 
no  face  ter  meet  Him  afore  I'd  a  done  suthin'  fur  the  kentry,  an' 
thet  Sally's  heart  would  be  clean  broke  ef  I  went  afore  har, 
but,  howsumuver,  I  said.  He  know'd  best,  an'  ef  it  war  His  will, 
I  hed  jest  nothin'  ter  say  agin  it.     Thet's  all  I  said,  but  I  said 


bible's  story.  IGl 

it  over  an'  over,  a  heap  o'  times,  an  it  war  right  dark  when  I 
got  off  uv  my  knees.  The  Lord  ycrcd  me,  thet's  sartin,  'case 
I  hedn't  more'n  got  up  fore  a  dirty  grey-back,  drunker'n  a 
member  uv  Congress,  staggered  inter  the  tent.  I  reckon  he 
thort  he  war  ter  home,  fur  he  drapped  down  outer  the  ground 
an'  went  ter  sleep,  wuthoat  so  much  as  axin'  cf  I  wus  willin'. 

"  Then  it  come  inter  my  head,  all  ter  onst,  whot  ter  do.  Ye 
sees,  the  critters  hed  tied  me  hand  an'  fut,  an'  teddered  me 
wuth  a  coil  ter  one  o'  the  tent-stakes,  so  I  couldn't  move  only 
jest  so  fur ;  but  the  Lord  He  made  the  drunken  feller  lop  down 
jest  inside  uv  reachin'.  Wall,  when  I  war  shore  he  war  dead 
asleep,  I  rolled  over  thar,  drawed  out  the  Bowie-knife  in  his 
belt  wuth  my  teeth,  an'  sawed  off  my  wristlets  in  no  time.  Ye 
kin  reckon  it  didn't  take  long  ter  undo  the  'tother  coils,  an' 
ter  'propriate  his  weapons,  tie  'im  hand  an'  fut  loike  I  war, 
strip  off  his  coat,  put  mine  outer  'im,  swap  hats,  an'  pull  the 
one  I  guv  him  down  onter  his  eyes  loike  as  ef  he  nuver  wanted 
ter  see  the  sun  agin.  When  I'd  a  done  thet,  I  stopped  ter 
breathe,  an'  luckin'  up  I  seed  a  light  a  comin'.  I  'spicioned 
it  war  ter  'xamine  arter  me,  so  I  slunk  down  inter  a  cor- 
ner o'  the  tent,  jest  aside  the  door.  They  wus  a  leftenant,  an' 
three  privits,  makin'  the  rounds,  an'  the  light  showed  me  nigh 
enter  a  army  uv  sentinels  all  about  thar.  Thet  warn't  no  way 
encouragin',  but  sez  I  ter  myself:  'Bible,'  sez  I,  'be  cool  an' 
outdacious,  an'  ye'll  git  out  o'  this,  yit ;'  so,  when  the  leften- 
ant luck'd  in,  an'  sayin' :  'All  right,'  put  out  agin,  I  riz  up, 
an'  jined  the  fellers  as  wus  a  follerin'  on  Him.  I  kept  in  the  shad- 
der,  an'  they,  s'posin'  1  war  one  on  'em,  tack  no  kind  uv  notice 
uv  me.  We'd  luck'd  arter  three  or  four  pore  prisoners  loike  I 
war,  when  I  thort  I'd  better  be  a  moseyin',  so  I  drapped  ahind 


162  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

an'  arter  a  while  dodged  out  beyont  the  second  line  o'  pickets. 
I'd  got  nigli  ontcr  a  patch  uv  woods  half  a  mile  off,  when  all 
tcr  oust  a  feller  sprung  up  frum  a  clump  uv  bushes,  yelled, 
*  Halt,'  an'  pinted  his  musket  stret  at  me.  I  moiight  hev 
eended  'ira,  but  I  reckoned  others  wus  nigh,  an'  sides,  I  nuver 
takes  humin  life  ef  I  kin  holp  it ;  so  I  sez  ter  'im  :  '  Why,  Lord 
bless  me,  cumrad',  I  didn't  seed  ye.'  *I  s'pose  ye  didn't. 
Whot  is  ye  doin'  yere?'  sez  he.  'Only  pursuin'  a  jug  o'  blue 
ruin  I'se  out  thar  hid  under  a  log,'  sez  I.  'Ye  knows  it'r  agin 
rule  ter  tote  it  inside,  but  a  feller  must  licker.'  'Wall,  licker 
up  ter-morrer,'  sez  he.  '  We's  got  'ticklar  orders  ter  let  no  'uu 
out  ter-nii^ht.'  '  Blast  the*  orders,' sez  I.  'Ye'd  loike  a  swior 
yerself.'  '  Wall,  I  would,'  sez  he.  '  WuU  ye  go  snacks  V 
'  Yas,'  sez  I;  'an'  guv  ye  chock-heapin'  measure,  far  I  must  hev 
some  o'  thet  afore  mornin'.' 

"Thet  bruug  him,  an'  I  piked  oflf  for  the  ruin.  (It  warn't 
thar,  ye  knows — I  nuver  totch  the  dingnation  stuff.)  Ye'd  bet- 
ter b'lieve  the  grass  didn't  grow  under  my  feet  when  oust  I  got 
inter  the  woods.  I  plumbed  my  coorse  by  the  stars,  an'  made 
ten  right  sinart  miles  in  no  time.  Then  it  come  inter  my  head 
thet  I'd  a  forgot  all  about  the  Lord,  so  I  kneeled  down  right 
thar,  an'  thanked  Him.  I  telled  Him  I  seed  His  hand  jest  so 
plain  as  ef  it  war  day-time,  an'  thet,  as  shore  as  my  name  war 
Eible,  I'd  foUer  His  lead  in  futur' — an'  I'se  tried  ter,  uver 
sense. 

"I'd  got  ter  be  right  wall  tuckered  out  by  thet  time — the 
'citement,  ye  see,  hed  holt  me  up,  but  I'd  no  sooner  gone  ter 
prayin'  'fore  my  knees  guv  out  all  ter  onst — so,  I  put  fur  a 
piece  uv  timber,  lay  down  under  a  tree,  an'  went  ter  sleep.  I 
must  hev  slept  mighty  sound,  fur,  long  'bout  mornin',  some'un 


163 

hed  ter  shuck  mc  awful  hard,  an'  turn  me  clar  over,  'fore  it  woked 
me.  I  got  up.  "Twar  nigli  so  light  as  day,  though  'twarn't 
sun-up.  Yit  I  luck'd  all  round,  an'  didn't  see  a  soul !  Now, 
whot  d'ye  s'pose  it  war  thct  woked  me  ?" 

*'  Your  own  imagination,  I  reckon.  You  were  dreaming,  and 
in  your  dream  you  thought  some  one  shook  you,"  I  replied. 

"  No  ;  'twarn't  thet.  I  nuver  dreams.  It  waf  the  Lord  ! 
An'  He  done  it  'case  I'd  prayed  ter  'im.  I'se  nuver  gone  ter 
sleep,  or  woke  up,  sense,  wuthout  prayin'  ter  llm,  an'  though 
Fse  been  in  a  heap  uv  wuss  fixes  nur  thet.  He's  got  me  out  uv 
all  on  'era,  jest  'case  I  does  pray  ter  Him." 

I  did  not  dispute  him.  Who  that  reads  the  New  Testament 
as  Bible  reads  it — like  a  little  child — can  dispute  him.  In 
a  moment  he  went  on  with  his  story. 

"  Wall,  I  luck'd  all  round,  an'  seed  nuthin',  but  I  yered — not  a 
mile  off — the  hounds  a  bayin'  away  loike  a  young  thundergust. 
They  wus  arter  me,  an'  thet  wus  the  why  the  Good  Lord 
■woked  me.  I  luck'd  at  the  'volver  I'd  stole  from  the  sodger, 
seed  it  war  all  right,  an'  then  dumb  a  tree.  'Bout  so  quick  as 
it  takes  ter  tell  it,  the  hounds — two  'mazin'  fine  critters,  wuth  a 
hun'red  an'  fifty  apiece — wus  on  me.  I  run  my  eye  'long  the 
pistol-barr'l,  an'  let  drive.  It  tuck  jest  two  shots  ter  kill  'em. 
I  know'd  the  Secesh  wus  a  foUerin'  the  dogs,  so,  ye'd  better 
b'lieve  I  made  purty  tall  racin'  time  till  I  got  ter  the  eend  uv 
the  timber. 

"  Jest  at  night  I  run  agin  some  darkies,  who  guv  me  suthin 
ter  eat,  an'  nothin'  more  happin'd  'fore  the  next  night,  when  I 
come  in  sio-ht  o'  home.  I  got  ter  the  edge  uv  the  woods,  on  the 
hill  jest  ahind  uv  my  barn,  'bout  a  hour  by  sun  ;  but  I  darn't 
go  down,  fur,  ye  knows,  the  house  stood  in  a  clarin',  an'  some 


164  DOWN   IN    TENNESSEE. 

uv  the  varmunts  mought  be  a  watchin'  fur  me.  I  lay  thar  till 
it  war  thick  dark,  an'  then  I  crept  ter  the  r'ar  door.  I  listened; 
an'  whot  d'ye  'spose  I  yered  ?  Sally  a  prayin' — an'  prayin'  fur 
me,  so  'arnest  an'  so  tender  loike,  thet  I  sot  down  on  the  door- 
step, an'  cried  loike  a  child — I  did." 

Here  the  rough,  strong  man  bent  down  his  head  and  wept 
again.     The  moisture  filled  my  own  eyes  as  he  continued  : 

"  She  telled  the  Lord  how  much  I  war  ter  bar;  how  she'd  a 
loved  me  uver  sense  she'd  a  fust  seed  me ;  how  'fore  bar  father, 
or  mother,  or  even  the  chillen,  she  loved  me ;  how  she'd  tried 
ter  make  me  love  Him  ;  how  she  know'd  thet,  way  down  in 
my  heart,  I  did  love  Him,  though  I  didn't  say  so,  'case  men 
doan't  speak  out  'bout  sech  things  loike  wimmin  does.  An'  she 
telled  Him  how  she  bed  tried  ter  do  His  will ;  tried  ter  be  one 
on  His  raal  chillen ;  an'  she  telled  Him  He  bed  promised  not 
ter  lay  onter  His  chillen  no  more'n  they  could  b'ar,  an'  she 
couldn't  b'ar  ter  bev  me  bung  up  as  ef  I  war  a  traitor  :  thet 
she  could  part  wutb  me  if  it  war  best ;  thet  she  could  see  me 
die,  an'  not  weep  a  tear,  ef  I  could  only  die  loike  a  man,  wutb 
a  musket  in  my  hand,  a  doin'  suthin'  for  my  kentry.  Then  she 
prayed  Him  ter  send  me  back  ter  bar  fur  jest  one  day,  so  she 
mought  ax  me  once  more  ter  love  Him — an'  she  know'd  I 
would  love  Him  ef  she  axed  me  agin — an'  she  said  ef  He'd 
only  do  thet,  she'd — much  as  she  loved  me — she'd  send  me 
away,  an'  guv  me  all  up  ter  Him  an'  the  kentry  fur  uver ! 
.  "I  couldn't  stand  no  more,  so,  I  opened  the  door,  drapped 
onter  my  knees,  tuck  bar  inter  my  arms,  lay  my  head  on  bar 
sboulder,  an'  sobbed  out :  '  The  Lord  bes  yered  ye,  Sally  !  I 
wull  love  Him !  I  wull  be  wortby  of  secb  love  as  ye's  guv'n  me, 
Sally !' " 


bible's  story.  165 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  covered  his  face  with  hi3 
hands.  AVlien  he  spoke  again  there  was  a  softness  and  tender- 
ness in  his  tone  that  I  never  heard  in  the  voice  of  but  one  other 
man. 

"  Sense  thet  minnit  this  yerth  hes  been  another  yerth  ter  me ; 
an'  though  I'se  lost  uverythin',  though  I  hes  no  home,  though 
night  arter  night  I  sleeps  out  in  the  cold  an'  the  wet,  a  scoutin', 
though  my  wife  an'  chillen  is  scattered,  though  nigh  uvery  day 
I'se  in  danger  uv  the  gallus,  though  I'se  been  roped  ter  a  tree 
ter  die  loike  a  dog,  though  a  thousand  bullets  hes  yelled  death 
in  my  yeres,  though  I'se  seed  my  only  boy  shot  down  afore  my 
vury  eyes,  an'  I  not  able  ter  speak  ter  him,  ter  guv  him  a  mossel 
uv  comfort,  or  ter  yere  his  last  word,  I'se  hed  suthin  allers  yere 
(laying  his  hand  on  his  heart)  thet  hes  holt  me  up,  an'  made 
me  luck  death  in  the  face  as  ef  I  loved  it.     An  ef  ye  hain't  got 

thet,  Mr. ,  no  matter  whot  else  ye's  got,  no  matter  whot 

money,  or  larnin',  or  friends,  ye's  pore — porer  nur  I  ar !" 

I  made  no  reply,  and  after  a  short  silence  he  resumed  his 
story. 

*'  Jake — thet  war  my  boy — ye  remember  him,  ye  hed  him  on 
yer  knee — he  war  eighteen  an'  a  man  grow'd  then  :  wall,  Jake 
an'  me  made  up  our  minds  ter  pike  fur  the  Union  lines  ter  oust. 
Sally  war  all  night  a  cookin'  fur  us,  an'  we  a  gittin'  the  arms 
an'  fixin's  a  ready — we  hed  lots  o'  them  b'longin'  ter  the  Guards, 
hid  away  in  a  panel  uv  the  wall — an'  the  next  day,  meanin'  ter 
start  jest  arter  sun-set,  we  laid  down  fur  some  sleepin'.  Nigh 
enter  dark.  Black  Jake,  who  war  a  watchin',  come  rushin'  inter 
the  house,  sayin'  the  Secesh  wus  a  comin.  Thar  wus  only 
twenty  on  'em,  he  said,  an'  one  wus  drunk  an'  didn't  count  fur 
nuthin',  so,  we  detarmined  ter  meet  'em.     We  tuck  our  stands 


166  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

nigli  the  door,  each  on  us  men — Bhick  Jake,  tlie  boy,  an'  nic — 
wuth  a  Derringer  in  his  pocket,  two  'volvers  in  his  belt,  an'  a 
Bowie-knife  in  the  breast  uv  his  waiscoat,  an'  the  wimmin  wuth 
a  'volver  in  each  hand,  an'  waited  fur  'em.  Half  a  dozen  on 
'em  went  round  ter  the  r'ar,  an'  the  rest  come  at  the  front  door, 
yellin'  out; 

" '  We  doan't  want  ter  'sturb  ye,  Miss  Smith  (they's  chiv- 
urly,  ye  knows),  but  we  reckons  yer  husban'  ar  yere,  an'  we 
must  sarch  the  house.     We  hes  orders  ter  take  him.' 

"  I  opened  the  door  stret  off,  an'  stoppin'  down  outer  the 
piazzer — Black  Jake  an'  the  boy  ter  my  back,  an'  the  wimmin' 
ter  the  winder — I  sez  ter  'em : 

"  '  Wall,  I'se  yere.     Take  me  ef  ye  kin  !' 

"They  wus  fourteen  on  'em  thar,  uvery  man  wuth  a  musket, 
but  they  darn't  lift  a  leg!     They,  wus  cowards.     It'r  nuthin* 

but  a  good  cause,  Mr. ,  thet  guvs  a  man  courage— makes 

him  luck  death  in  the  face  as  ef  he  loved  it. 

"  Wall,  they  begun  ter  parley.  '  We  doan't  want  ter  shed  no 
blood,'  said  the  leftenant :  'but  we's  orders  ter  take  ye,  Mister 
Smith,  an'  ye'd  better  go  wuth  us,  peaceable  loike.' 

"'I  shan't  go  wuth  ye  peaceable' loike,  nur  no  other  how,' 
sez  I ;  'fur  ye's  a  pack  o'  howlin'  thieves  an'  traitors  as  no  de- 
cent man  'ud  be  seed  in  company  uv.  Ye  disgraces  the  green 
yerth  ye  walks  on,  an'  ef  yc  doan't  git  off  uv  my  sheer  uv  it,  in 
less  nur  no  time,  I'll  send  ye — though  it'r  agin  my  principles 
ter  take  humin  life — whar  ye'll  git  yer  desarts,  sartin.' 

"  Then  the  leftenant  he  begun  ter  parley  agin,  but  I  pinted 
my  'volver  at  him,  an'  telled  him  he'd  better  be  a  moseyin'  sud- 
den.    Sayin'  he'd  'port  ter  his  cunnel,  he  done  it. 

*'  We  know'd   a  hun'red  on  'em  'ud  be  thar  in  no  time,  so, 


bible's  stoky.  167 

soon  as  they  wus  out  o*  sight,  the  boy  an'  me,  leavin'  Black 
Jake  ter  luck  arter  the  wiinmin,  struck  a  stret  line  fur  the  timber. 
We  hedn't  got  more'n  four  mile — ter  the  top  uv  the  tall  sum- 
mit ter  the  r'ar  uv  Richmond — afore,  luckin'  back,  we  seed  my 
house  an'  barns  all  a  blazin' !  The  Heaven-defyin'  villuns  hed 
come  back — shot  Jake  down  in  cold  blood,  druv  my  wife  an' 
darter  out  o'  doors,  an'  burnt  all  I  hed  ter  the  ground  !  We 
seed  the  fire,  but  not  knowin'  whot  else  hed  happin'd,  aq'  not 
bein'  able  ter  do  nothin',  we  piked  on  inter  the  woods^ 

"  We  traviled  all  thet  night  through  the  timber,  an'  jest  at 
sun-down  uv  the  next  day,  come  ter  a  clarin'.  We  wus  mighty 
tired,  but  'twouldn't  do  ter  sleep  thar,  fur  the  trees  wus  nigh  a 
rod  asunder;  so  we  luck'd  round,  an'  on  t'other  side  uv  the 
road,  not  half  a  mile  off,  seed  'bout  a  acre  uv  laurel  bush — 
ye  knows  whot  them  is,  some  on  'cm  so  thick  a  dog  karn't  git 
through  'em.  Jake  war  tireder  nur  I  war,  an'  he  said  ter  me, 
*  Dad,'  sez  he  :  '  let  us  git  under  kiver  ter  oust.  I  feels  loike 
I  couldn't  stand  up  no  longer.'  It  wus  fool-hardy  loike,  fur  the 
sun  warn't  clar  down,  but  I  couldn't  b'ar  ter  see  the  boy  so, 
an',  agin  my  jirdgment,  we  went  down  the  road  ter  the  laurels. 
We  lay  thar  till  mornin',  an'  slep'  so  sound  thet  I  reckon  ef 
forty  yerthquakes  hed  shuck  the  yerth,  they  wouldn't  hev 
woked  us.  Soon  as  sun-up,  Jake  riz,  an'  went  ter  the  edge  uv 
the  thicket  ter  rekonn(5itter.  He  hedn't  stood  thar  five  min- 
nits — right  in  plain  sight,  an'  not  more'n  two  hun'red  rods  frum 
me — afore  I  yered  a  shot,  an'  seed  the  pore  boy  throw  up  his 
arms,  an'  fall  ter  the  ground.  In  less  nur  no  time  fifty  Secesh 
wus  on  him.  I  war  springin'  up  ter  go  ter  him,  when  suthin' 
tuck  me  by  the  shoulder,  belt  me  back,  an'  said  ter  me  :  *  Ye 
karn't  do  nothin'  fur  him.     Leave  'im  ter  the  Lord.     Save  yer- 


168  DOWN   IN   TENNESSEE. 

self  fur  the  ken  try.'  It  went  agin  natur',  but  it  'peared  the 
Lord's  voice,  so  I  crouched  down  agin  'mong  the  bushes.  I 
nuver  know'd  whot  it  war  thet  saved  me  till  nigh  a  y'ar  arter- 
wuds.  Then  I  tuck  thet  leftenant  pris'ner, — I  could  hev  shot 
him,  but  I  guv  him  his  life  ter  repent  in,  an'  he  done  it:  he's 
a  decent  man  now,  b'longin'  ter  Gunnel  Johnson's  rigiraent. 
Wall,  I  tuck  him,  an'  he  said  ter  me  :  "  I  wus  aside  uv  thet  pore 
boy  when  he  war  dyin'.  He  turned  his  eyes  onter  me  jest  as 
he  war  goin',  an'  he  said:  'Ye  kam't  kotch  him.  He's  out 
o'  the  bush  !  Ha  !  ha  !'  He  said  thet,  and  died.  Ter  save  me, 
died  wuth  a  lie  on  his  lips !  Does  ye  h'lieve  the  Lord  laid 
thet  agin  him,  Mr.  ?" 

"  No,  no  !     I  am  sure  not.     It  was  a  noble  action." 

"  Pt  'pears  so  ter  me,  but  it  war  loike  the  boy.  He  war 
allers  furgettin'  himself,  an'  thinkin'  uv  other  folk.  He  war  all — 
all  the  pride  uv  my  life, — him  an'  Sally, — but  it  pleased  the  Lord 
ter  tuck  him  afore  me — but  only  fur  a  time — only  fur  a  time — 
'fore  long  I  shill  hev  him  agin — agin — up  thar — up  thar  !" 

His  emotion  choked  his  utterance  for  a  while.  When  he 
resunaed,  he  said : 

*'  At  the  eend  uv  a  fortni't,  trav'lin'  by  night  an'  sleepin'  by 
day,  an'  livin'  on  the  darkies  when  my  fixin's  guv  out,  I  got 
inter  the  Union  lines  'bove  Nashville." 

"  And  what  became  of  your  wife  and'  daughter  ?"  I  asked. 

"Lettle  Sally  went  ter  har  sister.  My  wife  walked  eighty 
mile  ter  har  father's.  He's  one  on  yer  quality  folk,  an'  a 
durned  old  Secesh,  but  he's  got  humin  natur'  in  him,  an'  Sally's 
safe  thar.  I'se  seed  har  twice  ter  his  house.  The  olp  'un 
he's  know'd  on't,  but  he  hain't  nuver  said  a  word." 


169 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

bible's  scouting  adventures. 

Bible's  intimate  knowledge  of  the  country,  and  acquaintance 
with  the  loyal  men  of  the  district,  enabled  him  to  perform 
more  actual  service  to  the  Union  cause  than  a  regiment  of  men 
in  the  ranks,  llidino-  in  the  woods,  or  secretingr  himself  in  the 
houses  of  his  friends  by  day,  he  would  sally  forth  by  night,  and, 
penetrating  far  into  the  rebel  lines,  frequently  gather  informa- 
tion of  great  importance  to  our  army.  Often  days  without 
food,  sleeping  out  in  the  cold  and  the  rain,  hunted  down  with 
blood-hounds,  betrayed  by  pretended  friends,  waylaid  by  whole 
regiments,  the  mark  for  a  thousand  rifles,  and  with  the  gallows 
ever  before  him,  he  went  on  in  his  perilous  work  with  a  single- 
hearted  devotion  to  his  country,  and  an  earnest,  child-like 
reliance  on  God,  that  would  do  honor  to  the  best  names  in 
history. 

His  scouting  adventures  would  fill  a  volume,  and  read  more 
like  a  romance  of  the  middle  ages  than  a  matter-of-fact  history 
of  the  present  time.  On  one  occasion,  when  about  five  miles 
outside  of  our  lines,  he  came,  late  at  night,  upon  a  party  of 
rebel  ofticers,  making  merry  at  the  house  of  a  w^ealthy  seces- 
sionist. Riding  coolly  up  to  the  mounted  orderly  on  guard 
before  the  door-way,  he  pinioned  his  arms,  thrust  a  handker- 
chief into  his  mouth,  and  led  him  quietly  out  of  hearing. 
Then  bidding  him  dismount,  and  tying  him  to  a  tree,  he  re- 


170  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

moved  the  impromptu  gag,  and  leveling  a  revolver  at  his  head, 
said  to  him  : 

"  Now,  tell  me,  ye  rebel  villun,  whot  whiskey-kags  wiis  ye  a 
watchin'  thar  ?  Speak  truth,  or  I'll  guv  ye  free  passage  ter  a 
hot  kentry." 

"Nine  ossifers,"  said  the  trembling  rebel;  "a  cunnel,  two 
majors,  a  sargeon,  two  cap'ns,  an'  the  rest  leftenants." 

*'  Whar's  thar  weapons  ?" 

"  Thar  swords  is  in  the  hall-way.  None  on  'em  hain't  pistols 
'cept  the  sargeon — he  mought  hev  a  'volver." 

"  Whot  nigs  is  they  round  ?" 

"  Nary  one,  I  reckon,  more'n  a  old  man  thar  (pointing  to 
the  kitchen-building)  an'  the  gals  in  the  house." 

*'  Wall,  I'll  let  ye  go  fur  this,  ef  yu's  tilled  the  truth.  Ef  ye 
hain't,  yeM  better  be  a  say  in'  yer  prayers  ter  onst,  fur  the  Lord 
won't  yere  ye  on  the  t'other  side  iiv  Jurdan." 

Fastening  his  horse  in  "  the  timber,"  and  creeping  up 
to  the  house,  he  then  reconnoitered  the  kitchen  premises. 
The  old  man — a  stout,  stalwart  negro  of  about  fifty — sat  dozing 
in  the  corner,  and  his  wife,  a  young  mulatto  woman,  was  cook- 
ing wild  fowl  over  the  fire.  Opening  the  door,  and  placing  his 
finger  on  his  lips  to  enjoin  silence,  Bible  beckoned  to  the 
woman.  She  came  to  him,  and,  looking  her  full  in  the  eye  for 
a  moment,  he  said  to  her :  "  I  kin  trust  ye.  Wud  ye  an'  yer 
old  'un  loike  ter  git  out  o'  the  claws  uv  these  durned  secesh  ?" 

"  Yas,  yas,  Massa,"  she  replied,  "  we  wud.  We's  Union ! 
We'd  loike  ter  git  'way,  Massa !" 

Then  awakening  her  husband,  Bible  said  to  him :  "  Uncle, 
wud  ye  risk  yer  life  far  yer  freedom  ?" 

''  Ef  dar's   a   chance,  Massa,  a   right   smart    chance.      Dis 


BIBLE  S    SCOUTING    ADYBNTURE5.  171 

dark'j  tinks  a  heap  ob  his  life,  he  does,  Massa.  It  'm  'bout 
all  hem  gut." 

"  Yas,  yas,  I  know  ;  bnt  ye  shill  hev  freedom.  I'll  see  ye  ter 
the  Free  State?,  ef  ye' 11  holp  tuck  them  sece.sh  ossifers." 

"IIolp  tuck  dem,  Massa!  Why,  dar's  a  dozen  on  'em; 
dey'd  ciiaw  ye  up  in  no  time,"  exclaimed  the  astonished  African. 

*•  No,  thar  hain't  a  dozen  on  'em  ;  thar's  only  nine  ;  but — yu's 
a  coward,"  replied  the  scout. 

"No,  I  hain't  no  coward,  Massa;  but  I  loikes  a  chance, 
Massa,  a  right  smart  chance." 

BiMe  soon  convinced  the  negro  that  he  would  have  a 
"right  smart  chance,"  and  he  consented  to  make  the  hazardous 
strike  for  his  freedom.  Entering  the  house,  he  returned  in  a 
few  moments  to  the  scout,  confiimiiig  the  sentinel's  report :  the 
weapons  were  reposing  quietly  in  the  hall,  near  the  doorway, 
and  the  officers,  very  much  the  worse  for  liquor,  were  carousing 
with  his  master  in  the  dining-room. 

Selecting  three  of  the  best  horses  from  the  stables,  Bible  di- 
rected the  yellow  woman  to  lead  them  into  the  road,  and  to 
bring  his  own  from  where  it  was  fastened  in  the  woods.  Then, 
with  his  sooty  ally,  the  scout  entered  the  mansion.  Removing 
the  arms  from  the  hall,  he  walked  boldly  into  the  dining-room. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  pointing  his  pistols — one  in  each  hand  — 
at  the  rebel  officers,  "ye  is  ray  pris'ners.  Surrender  yer  shoot- 
in'  irons,  or  ye's  dade  men." 

"Who  are  you?"  exclaimed  one  of  them,  as  they  all  sprang 
to  their  feet. 

"Gunnel  Smith,  uv  thev Fust  Tennessee  Nigger  Regiment — 
one  old  black  man  an'  a  yaller  'ooman,"  coolly  replied  the 
scout. 


172  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Go  to ,"  shouted  the  surgeon,  quickly  drawing  his  re- 
volver, and  discharging  it  directly  at  Bible's  face.  The  ball 
grazed  his  head,  cut  off  a  lock  of  hair  just  above  his  ear, 
and  lodged  in  the  wall  at  his  back.  The  report  was  still  sound- 
ing through  the  apartment,  when  the  surgeon  uttered  a  wild 
cry,  sprang  a  few  feet  into  the  air,  and  fell  lifeless  to  the  floor  I 
The  negro  had  shot  hira. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  none  o'  thet,"  said  Bible,  as  coolly  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  "guv  me  the  shootin'  iron,  an'  surren- 
der, or  we'll  sot  the  rest  on  ye  ter  his  wuck — rakin'  coals  fur 
the  devil's  funnace, — ^in  less  nur  a  minnit." 

"Without  more  hesitation  the  rebel  colonel  handed  the  scout 
the  fallen  man's  pistol,  and  then  all,  followed  by  the  scout 
and  the  negro,  marched  quietly  out  of  the  front  door.  The 
mulatto  woman,  holding  the  horses,  was  standing  in  the  high- 
way. 

"  Hitch  the  nags,  my  purty  gal,"  said  the  scout,  "  an'  git  a 
coil.  An'  ye,  gentlemen,  sot  down,  an'  say  nothin' — 'cept  it 
raought  be  yer  prayers ;  but  them,  I  reckon,  ye  hain't  larned 
yit." 

The  negress  soon  returned  with  the  rope,  and  while  Bible 
and  her  husband  covered  them  with  their  revolvers,  she  tied  the 
arms  of  the  prostrate  chivalr}'.  When  this  was  done,  the  scout 
affixed  a  long  rope  to  the  waist  of  the  oflScer  on  either  flank  of 
the  column,  and,  taking  one  in  his  own  hand,  and  giving  the 
other  to  the  negro,  cried  out : 

"  Sogers  uv  the  Fust  Tennessee  !     Mount !" 

The  regiment  bounded  into  the  saddle,  and  in  that  plight — 
the  planter  and  the  eight  captive  officers  marching  on  before, 
the  self-appointed  "  cunuel"  and  his  chief  oflScer  bringing  up  the 


bible's  scouting  advextukes.  173 

rear,  and  the  rest  of  his  command — the  yellow  woman — astrad- 
dle of  a  horse  between  them,  tliey  entered  the  Union  lines. 

On  another  occasion,  hunted  down  by  several  companies  of 
rebel  cavalry,  Bible  took  refuge  in  a  grove  of  laurel  bushes. 
Among  the  bushes  was  a  hollow  tree  in  which  he  had  once  or 
twice  slept  on  previous  expeditions.  It  had  been  overthrown 
by  a  tornado,  and  the  soil  still  clung,  in  huge  bowlders,  to  its 
upturned  roots.  Creeping  into  this  tree,  he  closed  the  small 
opening  with  earth,  and,  boring  a  hole  through  the  trunk  with 
his  bowie-knife  to  admit  air,  and  give  him  a  look-out  on  his 
pursuers,  he  lay  there  without  food  for  three  days  and  nights. 
The  rebels  saw  him  enter  the  grove,  and  at  once  surrounded  it, 
so  that  escape  was  impossible.  A  party  then  beat  the  bushes, 
and  after  examining  every  square  yard  of  the  ground,  came  and 
sat  upon  the  hollow  tree.  Listening,  he  heard  them  recount 
some  of  his  exploits,  and  assert  very  positively,  that  he  had  sold 
himself  to  that  notorious  dealer  in  human  chattels — the  devil — 
who,  they  thought,  had  given  him  power  to  make  himself  in- 
visible at  will.  "  An'  bein'  thet's  so,  cumrades,"  very  logically 
remarked  one  of  the  number,  "  doan't  it  nat'rally  foUer  thet  the 
devil  ar'  on  the  Union  side,  an'  moughtent  we  'bout  so  wall  guv 
it  up  fur  a  dade  beat  'ter  onst  I" 

When  the  rebel  army  retreated  from  Mnrfreesboro,  its  ad- 
vance column  came  suddenly  upon  the  scout  as  he  was  eating 
his  breakfast  in  an  "  oak  opening"  near  the  highway.  There^ 
was  no  chance  of  escape  or  concealment,  for  the  "  opening" 
was  covered  with  immense  trees  standing  fifteen  and  twenty 
feet  apart,  with  only  a  short  gra.ss  growing  between  them. 
Bible  was  disguised  in  an  immense  mass  of  red  hair  and 
beard,  and  wore  a  tattered  suit  of  the  coarse  homespun  of  the 


17'1  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

district.  Knowing  he  would  certainly  be  discovered,  lie  assumed 
a  vacant,  rustic  look,  and,  rising  from  the  ground,  gazed  stupidly 
at  the  soldiery. 

"I  say,  green  one,  ^Yhat  are  you  doing  thar?"  shouted  the 
officer  at  the  head  of  the  column. 

"  I'se  loss  my  cow-brutes,  Gunnel,"  replied  the  scout;  "two 
right  loikely  heffers ;  'un  on  'em  speckle  all  over,  'cept  the  tail, 
an'  thet  white'n  yer  face.  Ye  hain't  seed  'em  no  whar  'long 
the  road,  nohow,  hes  ye  ?" 

*'  No,  I  hain't  seed  'em,  no  whar,  nohow,"  rejoined  the  officer. 
"Come,  step  into  the  ranks;  we  need  just  such  fellows  as  you 
are.  Why  the  devil  haven't  they  conscripted  you  before.  Step 
into  the  ranks,  I  say,"  he  repeated,  as  Bible,  not  seeming  to 
comprehend  his  meaning,  remained  standing  in  his  previous  po- 
sition. The  second  command  having  no  more  effect  on  him 
than  the  first,  the  officer  directed  a  couple  of  soldiers  to  take 
Bible  between  them,  and  to  fall  in  at  the  rear  of  the  column. 
It  was  not  till  he  was  fairly  in  the  road  that  the  scout  seemed 
to  awaken  to  the  reality  of  his  condition. 

"  Why,  why,  ye  hain't  a  gwine  to  tuck  me  long  o'  ye !"  he 
exclaimed,  frantically  appealing  to  the  "cunnel."  "Ye  hain't  a 
gwine  ter  tuck  me  long  o'  ye  !     Ye  karn't  mean  thet !" 

"We  GO  mean  that,  and  you  just  keep  quiet,  or,  like  St. 
Paul,  you'll  fight  against  the  pricks,"  said  the  officer,  alluding 
perhaps  to  the  bayonets  which  the  two  soldiers  had  unslung 
and  were  holding  ready  to  apply  to  Bible's  flanks. 

"  Wli^r,  ye  karn't  mean  thet !  ye  karn't  mean  thet,  Cnnnel  I" 
again  piteously  cried  the  scout.  '' Wh — wh — whot'll  become 
on  the  old  'ooraan — whot'll  become  on  the  cow-brutes?" 

"D — d  the  old  woman  and   the  cow-brutes,"  shouted   the 


BIBLE  S   SCOUTING   ADVENTURES.  175 

officer,  riJinnr  forward  and  leaving  the  new  recruit  to  his  fate. 
And  thus  Bible  marchoG  to  the  Tidlahonia,  and  thus  he  en- 
listed in  the  second  regiment  of  Alabama  Infantry. 

Ho  remained  a  fortnight  at  Tullahonia,  and  while  there  ob- 
tained a  correct  idea  of  the  number  and  disposition  of  the  ene- 
mies' forces,  and  brought  away  with  him,  in  his  head,  an  accu- 
rate map  of  the  rebel  fortifications.  Desertions  being  freq^iont, 
the  pif'ket  lines  had  been  doubled,  and  when  he  was  ready  to 
leave,  it  had  become  next  to  impossible  to  penetrate  them.  But 
he  was  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  hit  upon  a  bold  expedient 
which  proved  successful. 

Restrictions  had  been  laid  by  the  commanding  general  on  the 
importation  of  whiskey,  and  the  use  of  that  article,  which  is  a 
sort  of  necessity  to  the  Southern  "native,"  had  been  prohibited 
within  the  lines  of  the  army — except  on  the  eve  of  battle.  Then 
the  cold-water  generals,  themselves,  dealt  it  out — mixed  with 
gunpowder — to  every  man  in  the  ranks.  The  regulations  con- 
cerning it  were  rigidly  enforced  in  all  the  divisions  except  Har- 
dee's. That  general — to  whose  corps  Bible  belonged — who 
has,  notoriously,  a  weakness  for  "  spirits"  and  negro  women, 
winked  at  the  indulgence  of  his  men  in  those  luxuries,  when  it 
did  not  interfere  with  their  strict  observance  of  "  Hardee's  Tac- 
tics." 

Knowing  his  proclivities,  Bible,  one  evening  just  after  sunset, 
took  a  tin  "jug"  under  his  arm,  and  sauntered  past  the  general's 
tent. 

"  I  say,"  shouted  Hardee,  catching  sight  of  the  long  form  of 
the  scout,  "  where  are  you  going  with  that  big  canteen  ?" 

"Ter  git  some  bust-head,  giniral.  Ye  knows  we  karn't  Uve 
wuthout  thet,"  replied  Bible,  with  aftccted  simplicity. 


176 


DOWN    IN   TENNES8EI;:. 


"Perhaps  you  karn't:  don't  you  know  it's  against  regula- 
tions.    I'll  string  you  up,  and  give  you  fifty." 

"  Oh,  no  !  ye  woan't  do  thet,  I  knows,  giuiral,  fur  ye's  a  feller 
feelih'  for  we  pore  sogers,"  said  Bible.  "We  karn't  live  wuth- 
out  a  leetlc  ruin  ;' wutbout  a  leetle,  nohow,  giniral !" 

"  Where  do  you  expect  to  get  it  ?"  asked  the  general. 

"Ter  Squire  Pursley's,"  said  the  scout,  naming  a  planter 
living  a  few  miles  outside  of  the  lines.  "  He's  got  some  on  the 
tallest  old  rye  ye  uver  seed.  I  knows  him.  An'  he's  the  big- 
gest brandy,  too,  an'  the  purtiest  nigger  gal  (rolling  his  tongue 
in  his  mouth  and  smacking  his  lips,)  thar  is  anywhar  round. 
She's  whiter'n  ye  is,  giniral,  an'  the  snuggest  piece  uv  house  fur- 
nitur'  as  uver  wus  grow'd." 

"And  how  do  you  expect  to  pass  the  pickets?"  asked  the 
standard  authority  on  "  Tactics." 

"  I  reckon'  this  wull  brung  'em,"  answered  Bible,  tapping  his 
canteen  significantly. 

"Well,  it  won't,"  replied  the  general,  laughing;  "but  I'll 
give  you  something  that  will.  And  here,  take  this  canteen  and 
get  me  some  of  that  *big  brandy,'  and  tell  the  squire  I'll  be 
over  there  one  of  these  days.  " 

The  general  gave  Bible  a  pass,  another  canteen,  and  five  dol- 
lars of  Confederate  scrip,  to  effectually  "  raise  the  spirits  ;"  and 
then  the  scout,  saying,  "Ye  kin  reckon  on  gittin'  sich  brandy, 
giniral,  as  wull  sot  ye  up  so  high  ye'll  nuver  come  down  agin,' 
walked  leisurely  out  of  the  rebel  lines. 

Once,  while  scouting  near  McMinnville,  Bible  was  captured 
by  a  small  party  of  Forrest's  cavalry.  One  of  the  Confederates 
knew  him,  and  he  was  told  he  must  die.  Throwing  a  rope 
over  the  limb  of  a  tree,  they  adjusted  it  about  his  neck,  and  the 


bible's  scouting  adventures.  177 

rebel  officer,  taking  out  his  watch,  said  to  him :  "  You  can  have 
five  minutes  to  say  your  prayers." 

"I  thanks  ye,  Cap'n,"  said  Bible;  "fur  thet  shows  ye's  got 
a  spark  uv  humin  fcclin'  in  ye;  an'  ef  ye'll  jest  pile  a  lettle  light 
'ood  on  ter  thet  spark,  it  mought  be  it  'iid  blaze  up,  an'  make 
ve  a  better  man  nur  ve  is,  or  kin  be,  whiles  ve's  a  fiorhtin'  ao-in' 
yer  kentry.  As  tor  prayin',  Cap'n,  I  doan't  need  no  time  fur 
thet;  fur  I'se  allers  a  prayin',  not  wuth  words — but  silent,  deep, 
down  yere" — placing  his  hand  on  his  heart — "  whar  I'se  allers 
a  sayin'  '  Our  Father  !'  Oar  Father,  Capt'n,  yourn  as  wull  as 
mine  !  An'  doan't  ye  'spose  He's  luckin  down  on  ye  now,  sorry, 
grieved  ter  His  vury  heart  thet  ye,  His  chile,  thet  His  own  Son 
died  a  wus  death  nur  this  fur,  should  be  a  doin'  whot  ye  is — 
not  a  hangin'  uv  me;  I  hain't  no  complaint  ter  make  o'  thet, 
fur  it'r  His  wull,  or  ye  wouldn't  be  a  doin'  on  it — but  sorry  thet 
ye's  lifted  yer  hand  agin'  yer  kentry,  agin  truth,  an'  right  an' 
the  vury  liberty  ye  talks  so  much  about.  Prayin' !  I'se  allers 
a  prayin',  Cap'n,  allers  been  a  prayin'  uver  sense  Sally  said  tei 
me :  *  Pray,  Bible,  fur  it'r  the  only  way  ye  kin  come  nigh  ter 
Him  :  it'r  the  only  way  ye  kin  know,  fur  shore,  thet  ye's  His 
raal  chilfe.'  An'  I  does  know  I'se  His  chile,  'case  I  loves  ter 
pray,  an'  I'll  pray  far  ye,  Cap'n — ye  needs  it  more  nur  me.  It 
woan't  do  ye  no  hurt,  an'  it  mought  do  ye  some  good,  fur  the 
Lord  promises  ter  yere  His  chillen,  an'  He  hes  yered  me^  over 
an'  over  agin." 

The  five  minutes  had  elapsed,  but  the  Confederate  officer  still 
stood  with  his  watch  in  his  hand.  At  last,  turning  suddenly 
away,  he  said  to  his  men  :  .    ' 

"Take  off  the  rope!  Take  him  to  the  general.  He  may  do 
what  he  likes  with  him.     I'll  be  d — d  if  Pli  hang  him." 


178  DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE. 

Before  they  reached  Forrest's  head-quarters  at  McMinnvillc, 
they  were  set  upon  by.  a  sqnad  of  Union  cavalry,  wlio  rescued 
the  prisoner,  captured  a  half  dozen  of  the  privates,  and  gave  the 
captain  a  mortal  wound  in  the  side.  Bible  laid  him  upon  the 
grass,  and,  taking  his  head  tenderly  in  his  lap,  prayed  for  him. 
As  the  Captain  turned  his  eyes  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  setting 
sun,  he  placed  the  scout's  hand  against  his  heart,  and  saying, 
"  I'm  going  now — I  feel  at  peace — I  owe  it  to  you — God  bless 
you  for  it,  may  God  for  ever  bless  you,"  he  uttered  a  low 
moan,  and  died. 

While  the  rebel  forces  lay  encamped  around  Chattanooga, 
Bible  made  them  a  professional  visit.  For  two  days,  from  the 
top  of  Lookout  Mountain,  he  looked  down  on  their  fortifications. 
With  the  works  fully  mapped  in  his  mind,  so  that,  in  his  rude 
way,  he  could  sketch  them  upon  paper,  he  started,  just  at  night- 
fall of  a  murky,  stormy  day,  to  make  his  way  northward.  Ar- 
riving at  the  house  of  a  pretended  friend,  he  took  supper,  and 
retired  to  sleep  in  a  small  room  on  the  ground  floor.  It  was 
not  far  from  eleven  o'clock,  and  raining  and  blowing  violently, 
when  3,  light  rap  came  at  his  window.  He  got  up — he  always 
slept  in  his  clothes,  with  his  arms  about  him — and  applying  his 
ear  to  the  glass,  heard  a  low  voice  say  : 

"Ye  is  betrayed.  Come  out  ter  onst.  They'll  be  yere  in  a 
hour." 

He  lifted  the  sash,  and,  springing  lightly  into  the  yard,  saw 
— as  well  as  the  night  would  permit — a  young  octoroon  woman 
standing  Unprotected  in  the  storm,  thinly  clad,  and  drenched 
from  head  to  foot.  Leading  him  out  into  the  darkness,  she  said 
to  him : 

"This  man's  son  war  at  master's  house   not  a   hour  back. 


bible's  scouting  adventures.  179 

He's  tolled  on  ye  ter  cjit  the  reward!     They's  'spectin'  the  cal- 
vary livery  niinnit.     Hark!  I  yore's  'em  now!" 

While  she  yet  spoke  he  heard  the  heavy  tramp  of  horsemen 
along  the  highway.  Placing  her  hand  in  his,  the  woman  fled 
hurriedly  to  the  woods.  When  they  had  gone  about  a  mile, 
she  paused,  and  said  to  him : 

"  I  karn't  go  no  furder.  I  must  git  home  or  they'll  'spect 
suthin'.  When  they  find  ye's  gone,  the  calvary'll  make  fur, the 
landin'.  Ye  must  go  up  the  river,  an'  'bout  two  mile  frum 
yere  ye'll  find  a  yawl.  It'r  cliained,  but  ye  kin  break  thet. 
Doan't  cross  over — a  hull  regiment  is  'camped  on  t'other  side 
— put  up  the  river  so  fur  as  ye  kin." 

With  a  mutual  "  God  bless  ye,"  they  parted.  Bible  made 
his  way  to  the  river,  and  narrowly  inspected  its  banks,  but  no 
boat  was  to  be  seen  !  He  had  spent  two  hours  in  the  search, 
when  he  came  to  a  bend  in  the  stream  which  gave  him  an  un- 
interrupted view  of  it  for  miles  below.  All  along  the  river  the 
air  was  alive  with  torches  hurrying  to  and  fro.  He  knew  his 
pursuers  would  soon  be  upon  him,  and  ejaculating  a  short  pray- 
er, in  which  he  reminded  the  Lord  that  the  information  he  car- 
ried in  his  head  was  of  "  no  oncommon  vallu,  orter  be  got  ter 
the  giniral  ter  onst,  an'  wouldn't  be  uv  no  yerthly  use"  if  he 
were  hanged  just  then,  he  crept  down  to  the  water.  Entangled  in 
the  underbrush  just  above  him  was  a  large  log,  the  estray  prop- 
erty of  some  up-country  sawyer.  Dropping  himself  into  the 
water,  he  made  his  way  to  the  log,  and,  laying  down  on  at  it  full 
length,  paddled  out  into  the  river.  When  he  had  reached  the 
■  mid'lle  of  the  stream,  he  let  himself  drift  down  with  the  current, 
and  in  a  short  time  was  among  his  pursuers.  A  thousand 
torches  blazing  on  either  bank  lit  up  the  narrow  river  with  a 


180  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

lariJ  glare,  and  made  the  smallest  object  on  its  surface  dis- 
tinctly visible.  K-iowiug  that  if  he  kept  his  position  he  would 
certainly  be  seen,  Bible  rolled  oflf  into  the  water,  turned  over 
on  his  back,  and,  keeping  one  iand  upon  the  log,  floated  along 
beside  it.  When  he  came  opposite  to  the  landing,  he  heard 
one  cavalryman  say  to  another : 

"  See !  thar's  a  log ;  moughtent  the  durned  critter  be  on 
thet?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  other ;  "  thar's  nothin'  on  it.  Yer  eyes 
is  no  better  'n  moles." 

"Wall,  I'll  guv  it  a  shot,  anyhow,"  rejoined  the  first,  and 
fired  his  carbine.  The  bullet  glanced  from  the  log,  and  struck 
the  water  a  few  feet  from  the  scout.  The  one  shot  attracted 
others,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  balls  fell  thickly  around  him, 
but  he  escaped  unhurt !  The  God  to  whom  he  had  prayed 
shielded  him,  and  brought  him  safely  out  of  the  hands  of  his 
enemies.  In  six  days,  after  unparalleled  hardships,  he  reached 
the  Union  lines. 

A  few  days  before  I  left  Murfreesboro,  Bible  started  on  an- 
other trip  into  the  enemies'  lines  to  establish  a  chain  of  spy 
stations  up  to  Bragg's  head-quarters.  He  succeeded  in  the  per- 
ilous enterprise,  and,  when  I  last  heard  of  him,  was  pursuing 
his  usual  avocation,  doing  really  more  service  to  the  country 
than  many  a  star-shouldered  gentleman  who  is  talked  of  now  in 
the  newspapers,  and  may  be  read  of  centuries  hence  in  history. 

If  I  have  outlined  his  character  distinctly,  the  reader  has 
perceived  that  he  is  brave,  simple-hearted,  outspoken,  hospita- 
ble, enterprising,  industrious,  loyal  to  liberty,  earnest  in  his 
convictions — though  ignorantly  confounding  names  with  things — 
a  good  husband  and  father,  with  a  quiet  humor  which  flavors 


THE 


POOR   WHITES."-  ISl 


character  as  Worcester  sauce  flavors  a  good  dinner,  a  practi- 
cal wisdom  which  ''trusts  in  the  Lord,  but  keeps  its  powder 
dry,"  some  talent  for  bragging,  and  that  intensity  of  nature  and 
disposition  to  magnify  every  thing  (illustrated  in  bis  stories  and 
conversation)  which  leads  the  Southerner  to  do  nothing  by 
halves,  to  throw  his  whole  soul  into  whatever  he  undertakes,  to 
be,  like  Jeremiah's  tigs,  "if  good,  very  good;  if  bad,  not  fit  to 
feef  the  pigs."  Though  morally  and  intellectually  superior  to 
the  mass  of  "  poor  Southern  whites,"  he  is  still  a  good  represent- 
ative of  the  class.  They  nearly  all  possess  the  same  traits  that 
he  does,  and  differ  from  him  only  in  degree,  not  in  kind. 
That  is  saving  little  against  them,  for  one  might  travel  a  whole 
summer's  day  in  our  Northern  cities,  and  not  meet  many 
who,  in  all  that  makes  true  manhood,  are  his  equals. 


IV  men 


182  DOWN    IN    TE^sNESSEE. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

% 

Professor  Cairnes,  in  lu>i  very  valuable  and  generally  accu- 
rate work  on  the  Slave  Power  (pages  54,  55),  ?avs : 

"In  the  Southern  States,  no  less  than  five  millions  of  human 
beings  are  now  said  to  exist  in  a  condition  little  removed  from 
savage  life,  eking  out  a  wretched  subsistence  by  hunting,  by 
fishing,  by  hiring  themselves  out  for  occasional  jobs,  and  by 
plunder.  Combining  the  restlessness  and  contempt  for  regular 
industry  peculiar  to  the  savage,  with  the  vices  of  the  proletaire 
of  civilized  communities,  these  people  make  np  a  class  at  once 
degraded  and  dangerous;  and  constantly  re-enforced,  as  they  are, 
by  all  that  is  idle,  worthless,  and  lawless  among  the  population 
of  the  neighboring  States,  form  an  inexhaustible  preserve  of 
ruffianism,  ready  at  hand  for  all  the  worst  purposes  of  Southern 

ambition Such  are  the  "  mean  whites"  or  "  white  trash" 

of  the  Southern  States This  class  comprises,  as  I  have 

said,  five  millions  of  human  beings — about  seven-tenths  of  the 
whole  white  population." 

This  opinion  of  Professor  Cairnes  is  no  doubt  held  by  fully 
uinetecn-twentieths  of  the  people  of  the  Xorthern  States  and  of 
England.  But  it  is  a  great — a  very  great  error.  Having  read 
of,  or  seen,  the  wretched  specimens  of  humanity  who  loiter 
about  the  railway  stations,  or  hover  around  the  large  plantations 


183 

on  tlie  great  Southern  thor.oiighfarc.%  tlioy  have  jumped  to  the 
concJusion  that  they  represent  "seven-tenths  of  the  whole  white 
population"  of  the  South  I  The  very  idea  is  preposterous,  for 
if  it  were  so,  one-half  of  the  Southern  people  would  be  pauper;^ 
and  no  community  could  exist  which  had  to  silpport  that  propor- 
tion of  non-producers.  But  it  is  not  so.  The  great  mass  of 
"  poor  whites"  are  superior  (and  I  say  this  with  due  deliberation, 
and  after  sixteen  years'  acquaintance  with  tliem)  to'every  other 
class  of  un-cultivated  nien,  save  our  Northern  farmers,  on  the 
globe.  They  all  were  born  in  this  country,  and  have  imbibcu 
from  our  institutions — distorted  and  perverted  as  they  are  at  the 
South — a  sturdy  independence,  and  an  honest  regard  for  each 
other's  rights,  which  make  them,  though  of  Scotch,  Scotch- 
Irish,  or  English  descent,  better  soldiers,  better  citizens,  and 
better  men  than  the  over-worked,  ignorant,  half-starved,  turbu- 
lent, and  degraded  peasantry  whom  England  vomits  upon  the 
North  to  create  riots,  rule  in  our  elections,  and  support  such 
politicians  as  Fernando  AVood. 

There  is  at  the  South  such  a  class  as  Mr.,  Cairnes  speaks  of. 
They  are  appropriately  called  "  mean  trash,"  and  "eke  out  a 
wretched  subsistence  b-y  hunting,  by  fishing,  by  hiring  them- 
selves out  for  occasional  jobs,  and  by  plunder,"  but  they  aie  a 
comparatively  small  class.  The  census  shows  that  they  cannot 
number  above  half  a  million. 

These  people  do  combine  "  the  restlessness  and  contempt  for 
regular  industry  peculiar  to  the  savage,  with  the  vices  of  the 
^roletaire  of  civilized  communities,"  are  "at  once  degraded  and 
dangerous,"  and  form  a  "preserve  of  ruffianism,  ready  at  hani] 
for  all  the  worst  purposes  of  Southern  ambition."  In  fact,  I  was 
about  to  add  that  all  the  ruffianism  of  the  South  is  confined  to 


184  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

them  and  to  the  "  chivalry,"  but  I  will  not  say  it,  for  it  would 
be  strictly  true. 

To  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  what  these  "  mean  whites" 
are,  I  will  glance  for  a  moment  at  their  habits  and  ways 
of  living.  Often  their  houses  are  the  rude  pole  wigwams  of  the 
Indian — shaped  like  a  sugar-loaf — with  merely  a  hole  at  the 
top  to  let  tlie  smoke  out,  and — the  rain  in;  but,  generally,  they 
live  in  small  huts  of  rough  logs,  through  the  crevices  of  which  the 
wind,  in  winter,  whistles  a  most  melancholy  tune.  These  huts 
are  floored  with  nothing  but  the  ground — hardened  with  mauls, 
and  hollowed  at  the  centre,  as  if  to  hold  the  rain  that  comes  in 
at  the  roof — and  their  one  apartment  is  furnished  with  a  few 
rickety  chairs,  a  pine  log — hewn  smooth  on  the  upper  side,  and 
made  to  serve  as  a  sofa — a  cracked  skillet,  a  dirty  frying-pan 
an  old-fashioned  rifle,  two  or  three  sleepy  dogs,  and  a  baker's 
dozen  of  half-clad  children,  with  skins  and  hair  colored  like  a 
tallow  candle  dipped  in  tobacco-juice.  In  one  corner  may  be  a 
mud  oven,  half  crumbled  back  to  its  original  earth,  and  in  the 
others,  two  or  three  low  beds,  with  corn-shuck  mattresses  and 
tattered  furnishings;  but  the  whole  aspect  of  the  place  reminds 
one  strongly  of  a  tolerably-kept  swine-sty  or  dog-kennel. 
The  character  of  the  inmates  of  these  hovels  is  suited  to  their 
surroundings.  They  are  indolent,  shiftless,  and  thieving;  given 
to  whiskey-drinking,  snufF-dipping,  clay-eating,  and  all  manner 
of  social  vices.  Brothers  intermarry  with  sisters,  fathers  co- 
habit with  daughters,  and  husbands  sell,  or  barter  away,  their 
wives,  as  freely  as  they  would  their  hounds,  or  as  the  plantcf 
would  his  slaves.  I  have  myself  met  a  number  of  these  white 
women  who  had  been  sold  into  prostitution  by  their  natural 
protectors,  for  a  few  dollars  or  a  good  rifle. 


THE    '*  POOR    WHITES.*"  185 

Their  indolence  is  almost  past  belief.  They  are  literally  "  too 
lazy  to  come  in  when  it  rains."  A  traveler  tells  of  askinir  shel- 
ter at  one  of  their  shanties  in  a  storm.  The  rain  was  pouring 
in  at  the  roof,  and  the  family  were  huddled  about  the  only  dry 
spot  on  the  floor. 

"  Why  don't  you  mend  your  roof?"  the  traveler  asked. 

**  Stranger,"  replied  the  host,  "  we  can't  do  it — it  rains." 

"  But  it  doesn't  always  rain — why  not  mend  it  in  dry 
weather  ?" 

"Why,  wh — whot's  the  use  o'  mendin'  it  when  it  doan't 
leak  ?"  was  the  very  sensible  reply. 

Still,  they  have  a  mortal  antipathy  to  water.  Tliey  never 
take  it  outwardly,  unless  the  roof  leaks,  or  they  are  caught  out 
in  a  rain-storm,  and  never  inwardly,  unless  it  is  mixed  with 
apple-jack  or  whiskey.  Whiskey  is  their  staple  beverage.  By 
exchanging  deer  or  other  game  (their  only  currency)  at  some 
cross-road  doggery,  they  obtain  plentiful  supplies  of  a  vile  fluid, 
which  is  compounded  of  log-wood,  strychnine,  juniper  berries, 
and  alcohol,  and  "  circulates"  among  them  under  the  appropri- 
ate names  of  "  Tangle-foot,"  "  Blue-ruin,"  "  Red-eye,"  "  Bust- 
head,"  and  "  Knock-'em-stifl"."  If  the  vender  of  this  vile  stuff 
did  not  dilute  it  freely  with  water — so  freely  that  it  rarely  fails 
to  itself  "  get  tight"  in  cold  weather — the  race  of  mean  South- 
ern whites"  would  soon  be  swept  from  the  earth.  As  it  is,  they 
seem  to  thrive  and  fatten  upon  it ;  old  men,  dozing  away  in  the 
chimney-corner,  and  little  children,  tottling  about  the  floor, 
drink  it  as  if  it  were  water. 

A  Northern  man  was  once  forced  to  dine  at  one  of  then, 
hovels.  Missing  the  customary  "  whiskey-kag"  from  the  table, 
he  said  to  the  housewife : 


186  DOWX    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  Can't  you  give  me  a  mug  of  Ivnock-'em-stiff  ?" 

"I  can't,  Stranger,"  was  her  reply:  "I  hain't  nary  drap  ter 
speer." 

"  None  to  spare !  Why,  I  see  a  barrel  of  it  there  in  the  cor- 
ner!" 

"A  barr'l  uv  it!"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "why,  whot's  thet 
fur  a  lone  widder  an'  sevin  chlllen  ?  We  shill  be  nation  dry 
'fore  winter's  over!" 

Not  one  in  a  thousand  of  these  people  can  read,  and  not  one 
in  ten  thousand  can  write.  I  have  known  many  who  never  saw 
a  book  or  a  newspaper,  and  some  who  never  heard  of  a  Bible 
or  a  spelling-book.  As  a  consequence  of  such  ignorance,  they 
have  very  crude  notions  of  God  and  religious  duty.  In  fact, 
though  they  often  spend  weeks  at  camp-meetings,  shouting 
*' Glory"  and  groaning  "Old  Hundred,"  they  liave  no  religion. 
I  once  heard  one  of  their  preachers  deliver  a  sermon  which  well 
illusti-ated  their  knowledge  of  spiritual  things. 

It  was  at  a  little  church  in  the  shadow  of  Bald  mountain,  one 
of  the  immense  range  dividing  North  Carolina  from  Tennessee. 

The  building  was  a  simple  structure  of  logs,  with  a  puncheon 
floor,  and  a  single  opening  for  a  door,  but  without  a  window  or 
a  chimney.  On  a  bare  spot  in  its  centre  a  huge  light-wood  fire 
was  blazing,  and  roaring,  and  fuming  and  forcing  thick  volumes 
of  smoke  into  the  people's  eyes  till  they  wept  as  if  they  were 
so  many  watering-pots.  The  congregation  was  seated  around 
this  fire  on  benches  of  rough  logs,  and  the  preacher  occupied  a 
small  platform,  raised  a  few  steps  from  the  floor,  and  furnished 
with  a  single  block  of  wood  which  officiated  as  a  chair.  The 
women  had  bare  heads  and  feet,  and  their  only  garment  (it  was 
the  month  of  November)  seemed  to  be  a  coarse  cottonade  gown, 


187 

fal'.inf;  straight  from  the  neck  to  just  below  the  knees.  The 
men  liad  lonfj  nintted  hair  and  shaggy  beards,  and  wore  slouched 
hats  (they  kept  them  on  during  the  services),  and  linsey  trowsers, 
and  hunting  shirts,  so  begrimed  with  dirt,  and  so  torn  and 
pitched  in  a  thousand  places,  that  scarcely  a  vestige  of  the 
original  material  was  left  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Many  of 
them — owing,  no  doubt,  to  their  custom  of  intermarrying — were 
deformed  and  apparently  idiotic,  and  they  all  had  stunted,  ague- 
distorted  bodies,  untanned-leather  skins,  small  heads,. Eound  as 
a  bullet,  and  coarse,  wiry  hair,  which  looked  like  shreds  of 
oakum  o-athered  into  mops,  and  dyed  with  lamp  black. 

The  preacher's  text,  whicli^he  credited  to  the  apostle  David, 
was  :  "Trv  the  sperrets ;"  and  he  showed,  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  au.litory,  that  while  Scripture  expiCssly  enjoins  the  taking 
of  "a  little  wine" — which,  he  said,  was  the  ancient  name  for 
whiskey — "for  the  stomach's  sake,"  it  as  expressly  requires  that 
we  shall  "try  the  sperrets,"  or,  in  other  words,  that  we  shall 
drink  none  but  the  very  best  whiskey  we  can  get.  He  reckoned 
"thet  sech  ruin  as  come  from  'Ilio,  an'  could  be  got  ter  Jim 
Decker's — over  the  mountain  ter  Jonesboro — fur  a  coon-skin  a 
gallon,  was  purty  tollable  sort  o'  ruin,  an'  mought  do  fur  white 
folk,  but  sech  as  Dan  Ferguson  'stilled,  down  thar  ter  the  mill, 
warn't  no  way  fit  fur  a  boss  ter  drink."  He  belabored  bad 
whiskey,  for  a  time,  with  savage  vehemence,  and, then  opened 
his  batteries  upon  tobacco.  Whiskey  was,  as  the  Bible 
affirms,  o-ood  for  the  stomach,  and  he  reckoned  the  "  clar  stuff 
wouldn't  hurt  no  part  uv  a  humin  bcin',"  but  tobacco  was  a  vile 
thing  that  would  kill  any  living  creature  but  \toman  ;  and  huw 
she  could  chaw  it,  and  smoke  it,  and  suuft"  it,  and  dip  it,  as  she 
did,  he  couldn't  see,  no  how.     Its  use  warn't  noway  sanctioned 


188  DOV.'N    IN    TENNESSEE. 

by  Scriptur,'  and  nary  one  uv  the  Apostles,  Prophets,  or  good 
men  of  the  olden  time  uver  used  it;  and  while  the  Bible  often 
spoke  of  wine  and  "  sperrets,  it  nuver  onst  mentioned  the  name 
iiv  terbacker,  and  that  proved  it  couldn't  be  good  ter  take !" 

When  he  had  "adjourned^ the  meeting"  for  a  fortnight — 
Providexce  wullin',  an'  thar  bein'  no  freshet  on  the  mounting 
— I  ventured  to  suggest  to  him  that  it  was  possible  he  had  mis- 
understood his  text,  and  I  then  learned  that  he  could  not  read, 
and  that  a  neighboring  planter — one  of  the  chivalry — had  given 
him  the  text,  outlined  his  subject,  told  him  that  the  text  refers 
to  ardent  spirits,  and  that  he  must  be  sure  to  "pitch  powerful 
strong  inter  Dan  Ferguson's  whisi^ev." 

[The  men  who  can  thus  sport  with  the  best  feelings  of  their 
fellows,  are,  as  we  know,  capable  of  worse  things.] 

Nowhere  but  in  the  Slave  States  is  there  a  class  of  whites  so 
ignorant  and  so  degraded  as  are  these  people.  In  every  other 
country  the  peasantry  labor,  are  the  principal  producers,  the 
really  indispensable  part  of  the  community;  but  the  "mean 
"white"  of  the  South  does  not  know  how  to  labor ;  he  pro- 
duces nothing;  he  is  a  fungous  growth  on  the  body  of  societv, 
absorbing  the  strength  and  life  of  its  other  parts,  and  he  would 
not  exist  if  the  Southern  system  were  in  a  healthy  state.  And 
he  is  the  natural  product  of  Slavery,  for  slavery,  which  makes 
the  slave  the  planter's  blacksmith,  and  wheelwright,  and  carpen- 
ter, and  artisan  of  all  work,  shuts  upon  the  mean  white  man 
every  avenue  of  honest  toil,  and  drives  him  to  the  barren  sand- 
hills to  starve  and  to  die. 

He  steals  the  deer  from  the  planter's  forests,  the  hams  from 
his  smoke-houses,  and  the  chickens  from  his  hen-roosts,  and  he 
vends  corruption  and  bad  whiskey  among  the  negroes ;  but  the 


•  THE    ''  POOR    WHITES."  189 

planter  tolerates  bira  fur  his  vote.  I  have  seen  a  planter  march 
twenty  of  these  wretched  caricatures  of  humanity  up  to  the  polls, 
and  when  they  had.  voted  at  his  bidding,  have  had  him  turn 
to  me  and  say,  with  a  sneer  on  his  lips :  % 

''This  is  your  boasted  Democracy;  this  trash  governs  this 
country ;  Jefferson  gave  them  the  right  of  suffrage,  and  they 
suppose  they  are  voting  for  Jefferson  nowy 

''But,"  I  said  to  him,  "  why  do  you  not  let  them  think?  why 
not  give  them  schools  and  work  ?" 

"  Because,"  he  replied,  "  if  v/e  did,  they  might  not  vote  for 
Jefferson !" 

To  these  "  mean  ^vhites,"  Mr.  Cairnes's  description  appropri- 
ately applies,  and  it  applies  only  to  them.  The  great  mass  of 
poor  whites,  as  I  have  said,  are  a  very  different  people.  The 
poor  white  man  labors,  the  mean  white  man  does  not  labor;  and 
labor  marks  the  distinction  between  them.  Labor  makes  one 
hardy,  industrious,  and  enterprising,  a  law-abiding  and  useful 
citizen  ;  idleness  makes  the  other  thieving,  vicious,  law-breaking, 
and  of  "  no  sort  of  account"  to  himself  or  society. 

The  laboring  whites  comprise  two-thirds  of  the  free  popula- 
tion of  the  South,  and  they  have  done  more  for  its  material 
progress  than  all  its  "  chivalry"  and  all  its  slaves.  They  have 
done  more,  because  they  have  worked  under  the  stimulus  of 
freedom,  and  because  they  vastly  outnumber  the  other  classes. 
The  census  shows  that  on  the  first  of  June,  1860,  there  were  in 
the  fourteen  Slave  States,  exclusive  of  Delaware,  one  million, 
three  hundred  and  fifty-nine  thousand,  six  hundred  and  fifiy-five 
white  males  engaged  in  agricultural  and  other  out-door  employ- 
ments. Of  this  number,  nine  hundred  and  one  thousand,  one 
hundred  and  two  are  classed  as  ''farmers" — men  who  till  their 


190  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE.  * 

own  l:\ncl:  two  hundred  and  thirty  thousand,  one  hundred  and 
forty-six  are  classed  as  "farm-laborers" — men  who  till  the  land 
of  others:  and  two  hundred  and  twenty-eijiht  thousand,  four 
hundred  and  seven  are  classed  as  *'  laborers" — men  enijaged  in 
out-door  work  other  than  the  tillage  of  land.  The  "  farmers" 
are  not  to  be  coiifounded  with  the  planters — men  who  work 
large  tracts  of  land  and  large  bodies  of  slaves,  but  do  not  work 
themselves — for  the  census  takes  distinct  account  of  the  latter. 
lliey  number  only  eighty-five  thousand,  five  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight,  but — such  has  been  the  working  of  the  peculiar  institu- 
tion— they  own  nearly  three-fourths  of  the  negroes  and  landed 
property  of  the  South.  These  one  million,  three  hundred  and 
odd  thousand  of  laboring  white  men  represent  a  population  of 
about  six  millions  ;  and  if  we  add  to  them  the  four  hundred 
thousand  represented  by  the  planters,  and  the  one  million  repre- 
sented by  men  in  trade,  manufactures,  and  the  professions,  there 
can  hardly  remain,  in  a  total  population  of  less  than  eight  mil- 
lions, "  five  millions  of  human  beings  who  eke  out  a  wretched 
subsistence  by  hunting,  by  fishing,  by  hiring  themselves  out  for 
occasional  jobs,  and  by  plunder."  Half  a  million — the  number 
I  before  stated — is  vastly  nearer  the  truth. 

Little  is  known  at  the  North  of  this  large  working  population, 
for  the  reason  that  they  live  remote  from  the  great  traveled  routes, 
and  have  been  seldom  seen  by  travelers.  They  are  scattered 
over  all  the  South,  but  are  most  numerous  in  the  Border  States 
and  in  Texas.  The  most  of  them  own  small  farms,  and  till  the 
soil  with  their  own  hands.  Some  of  them  have  one  or  two 
slaves,  and  in  rare  instances  the  more  industrious  have  acquired 
ten  or  fifteen — but  they  work  with  the  blacks  in  the  fields,  and 
treat  them  very  much  as  our  Xortheru  farmers  treat  their  hired 


101 

workmen.  Before  the  war  the  traveler  in  the  interior  of  NoUh 
Carolina  would  have  heard  the  axe  of  master  and  man  faliinor^ 
with  alternate  strokes,  in  the  depths  of  the  evergreen  forests, 
or  he  would  have  seen  the  two  "  camped  out"  together  in  the 
same  tent  or  pine-pole  cabin,  drinking  from  the  same  gourd — 
the  darky  always  after  his  master — eating  from  the  same  rude 
table,  and  sharing  the  same  bed — the  cabin  floor — in  common. 
So,  too,  in  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Missouri,  Western  Virginia, 
and  middle  and  upper  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi,  he 
would  have  seen  the  white  and  the  black  ploughing  side  by  side, 
or,  bared  to  the  waist,  swinging  the  old-fashioned  scythe,  in 
good-natured  rivalry  as  to  which  could  cut  the  broadest  swath 
of  yellow  wheat  or  waving  timothy,  or  tote  the  biggest  bundle 
of  corn  to  the  evening  husking-bee.  And  when  the  evening 
had  come,  he  would  have  found  them  gathered  in  the  old  log 
barn,  husking,  and  singing,  and  shouting,  and  dancing  in  com- 
pany, to  the  tune  of  "  Ole  Virginny,"  or  "  Rose,  Rose,  de  coal 
brack  Ros'e,"  played  by  "oldTTncle  Ned,"  who  "had  no  wool 
on  de  top  ob  his  head,"  but  whose  skinny  fingers,  with  handy 
blows,  could  rap  the  music  out  of  "  de  ole  banjoes." 

The  more  wealthy  of  this  class  sometimes  give  their  children 
what  might  be  called  a  fair  common-school  education,  but  fully 
one-half  of  them  never  learn  to  read  or  write.  The  reason  of 
this  is,  there  are  no  schools  for  the  common  people  at  th,e  South. 
In  a  village,  ten  or  twenty  miles  distant,  there  may  be  a  preten- 
tious "  Female  College,"  or  "  Institute  of  Learning  for  Young 
Men,"  where  "  a  little  Latin  and  less  Greek"  is  dispensed  to  the 
young  idea  at  the  rate  of  four  or  five  hundred  dollars  per  annum, 
but  these  prices  place  their  "stores  of  knowledge"  far  above  the 
reach  of  the  hard-toiling  fanner.      Only  in  Tennessee,  so  far 


192  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

as  I  tnow,  are  there  any  free  schools,  and  the  scanty  State  al- 
lowance wliicli  formerly  supported  them,  was  dealt  out  with  a 
most  parsimonious  hand  by  the  ruling  aristocracy.  How  much 
light  those  institutions  gave  the  people,  may  be  guessed  at  from 
the  fact  that  any  one  was  qualified  to  instruct  in  them  who 
could  "read,  write,  and  do  sums  in  addition." 

So  many  of  these  people  being  unable,  to  read,  it  may  be  in- 
ferred they  generally  do  not  "  take  the  papers."  They  do  not. 
And  why  should  they?  Would  it  be  wisdom  in  the  Southern 
farmer,  when  his  wife  and  children  were  barefoot,  and  the  wolf — 
hunger — was  looking  in  at  liis  door,  to  waste  one-tenth  of  his  only 
bale  of  cotton  on  a  wretched  hebdomadal,  filled  with  Secession, 
slavery,  and  negro  advertisements,  whose  stupid  editorial  h© 
would  be  a  fortnight  in  spelling  out  ? 

As  he  does  not  read,  he  has  to  derive  his  knowledge  of  cur- 
rent events  and  political  affairs  from  his  wealthier  neighbor, 
who  does  read,  and  wlio  is  sure  to  be  a  slave-owner,  and  one  of 
the  self-baptized  "  chivalry."  At  a  political  barbacue,*or  a  court- 
day  gathering,  the  farmer  may  hear,  once  or  twice  in  the  year,  the 

'  two  sides  of  every  national  question  but  the,  to  him,  all-import- 
ant one  of  slavery.  If  that  subject  is  at  all  touched  upon  on 
such  an  occasion,  it  is  shown  to  be  of  divine  origin — dating 

-  back  to  the  time  when  Ham  first  cast  a  black  shadow  across  his 
looking-glass,  and  only  to  end  when  the  skins  of  his  descendants 
no  longer  wear  mourning  for  their  forefather's  sin. 

Thus  ignorant,  and  thus  instructed,  is  it  strange  that  the  South- 
ern farmer  deems  slavery  altogether  lovelier  than  freedom  ?  What 
does  he  know  of  freedom  ?  What  does  he  know  of  what  it  has 
done  for  the  poor  man  of  the  Xorth  ?  Xothing.  He  never 
saw  a  Northern  man  in  all  his  life,  except,  it  may  be,  a  Yankee 


THE    ••  POOR    WHITKb.  193 

])e.Har,  and  he— my  Yankee  frienrls  will,  I  hope,  take  uo  offence 
at  my  saying  this,  for  I  am  a  Yankee  myself— he,  when  he  mi- 
grates South,  develops  into  about  the  meanest  specimen  of  hu- 
manity to  be  found  on  this  planet. 

If  the  Southern  workingman  knew  what  free<lom  is ;  if  ho 
knew  what  it  does  at  the  North ;  how  it  builds  a  free  school 
at    every    cross-road,    while    knowledge    is    saddled    with    a 
MoiTill  tariff  at  the  South  ;  how  it  makes  the  Northern  laborer 
comparatively  rich,  while  he  is  wretchedly  poor ;  how  it  gives 
the  Northern  farmer  a  comfortable  home  for  himself  and  out- 
buildings for  his  cattle,  while  he  lodges  in  a  mud-chinked  hovel, 
and  stables  his  cows  in  the  woods ;  how  the  Northern  working- 
man  travels  in  luxurious  steamboats  or  velvet-cushioned   cars, 
while  he  journeys  on  the  hurricane  deck  of  a  mule,  or  in  that 
sort  of  railway  train  that  will  climb  the  steepest  grade,  if  it  only 
has  time  enough— an  ox-cart  drawn  by  a  single   two-year-old 
heifer ;  how  the  Northern  farmer  is  respected  and  honored  he- 
cause  he  labors,  while  he  is  looked  down  upon  and  despised  for 
doinjr  the  same  thing ;  how  the  poorest  Northern  man  votes, 
independently  and  intelligently,  as  one  of  the  real  "  sovereigns 
of  the  nation,"  while  he,  misled  by  a  stump  speech,  or  bribed 
by  a  glass  of  whiskey,  ignorantly  casts  his  ballot  for  the  very 
men  who  are  robbing  him  of  his  birth-right :  if  he  knew  all  this, 
would  he  not  crush  slavery,  and  end  the  rebellion  in  a  day  ? 
He  would.     And  slavery  will  not  be  effectually  crushed,  or  the 
Rebellion  ended,  until  he  does  know  it.     We  may  overrun  the 
South,  we  may  make  its  fields  a  desolation,  and  its  cities  heaps 
of  ruin,  but  until  we  reach  the  reason  and  the  hearts  of  these 
men,  we  shall  stand  ever  on  the  crater  of  a  volcano,  whose  red- 
hot  lava  may  at  any  hour  again  burst  forth  and  <leluge  tiie  land 
9 


194  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

with  blood  and  fire !  It  is  idle  to  talk  of  conquering  a  union 
with  a  disaflfected  people.  It  never  was  done,  and  never  will  be 
done.  Ireland,  and  Italy,  and  Hungary,  ought  to  convince  us 
of  that. 

But  how,  while  every  able-bodied  Southern  man  is  in  the 
Rebel  army,  can  we  reach  these  people  ?  I  answer,  by  fighting 
them  with  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  a  Union  newspaper  in  the 
other — by  giving  them  ideas  as  well  as  bullets.  By  scattering 
loyal  publications  broadcast  over  the  conquered  districts  ;  and  by 
starting  a  free  press  wherever  we  hold  a  foot  of  Southern  soil. 
If  the  men  are  away  in  the  army,  the  women  will  be  at  home,  and 
will  read  these  things,  and  that  will  bo  enough.  If  we  convert 
them,  the  country  is  saved.  Woman,  in  this  century,  is  every 
where  that  "power  behind  the  throne"  which  is  mightier  than 
the  throne  itself,  and  the  Southern  women  have  been,  and  are, 
the  mainspring  of  this  Rebellion.  Every  dollar  that  we  thus 
plant  in  the  South  will  spring  up  a  man,  in  tattered  hat  and 
ragged  butternuts,  it  may  be,  but  still  a  man,  hardy,  earnest, 
brave,  who,  for  what  he  thinks  is  right,  will  march  straight  up 
\o  the  cannon's  mouth,  and  meet  death  "  as  if  he  loved  it." 

I  have  been  led  into  this  long  digression  by  an  earnest  desire 
to  disabuse  the  Northern  mind  in  regard  to  these  people.  For 
this  reason  I  have  drawn,  at  full  length,  the  portraits  of  "  Long 
Tom"  and  "Bible  Smith"  in  this  volume,  and  of  "Andy  Jones" 
and  the  farmer  "  Barnes"  in  the  book  "  Among  the  Pines." 
They  are  all  representatives  of  this  class.  I  have  endeavored 
to  sketch  their  characters  faithfully— extenuating  nothing  and 
setting  nothing  down  in  malice — that  the  reader  may  believe, 
what  I  know,  that  there  is  not  in  the  whole  North  a  more 
worthy,  industrious,  enterprising,  honest,  brave,    and   liberty- 


THE  "poor  whites."  195 

loving  class  of  people  than  the  great  body  of  poor  Southern 
whites.  Take  the  heel  of  the  man-buying  and  woman-whipping 
aristocrat  from  off  their  necks,  give  them  free  schools  and  a 
chance  to  rise,  and  they  will  make  the  South,  with  its  prolific 
soil,  its  immense  water-power,  and  its  vast  mineral  wealth,  such 
a  country  as  the  sun  never  yet  looked  upon,  and  this  Union 
such  a  Union  as  will  be  "  the  light  of  the  nations  and  the  glory 
of  the  earth !" 


195  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A    DAY    WITH    ROSECRANS. 

That  afternoon  I  sent  mj  letters  to  the  Commanding  Gene- 
ral, and  the  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  taking  particular 
direction  from  the  "culled  geraman"  who  had  been  my  bearer 
of  dispatches,  I  set  out  in  search  of  his  quarters.  On  a  side 
street  at  a  little  distance  from  the  centre  of  the  town,  I  found 
a  modest  brick  building,  from  the  balcony  of  which  a  large  flag 
was  flying.  Before  this  house  a  solitary  sentinel  was  pacing  to 
and  fro  with  a  musket  on  his  shoulder,  and  in  the  court-yard 
beyond  it,  in  the  shade  of  a  group  of  tents,  half  a  dozen  officers 
were  reading  newspapers,  or  lazily  puffing  away  at  their  meer- 
schaums. Near  by,  in  the  door-way  of  a  smaller  building, — an 
edifice  about  as  large  as  a  half  grown  hen-coop, — with  his  body 
balanced  on  the  legs  of  a  rosewood  chair,  and  his  feet  braced 
against  the  door  jam,  another  soldier  was  indulging  in  the  de- 
lightful employments  of  his  superiors.  Approaching  this  soldier, 
I  said  to  him  : 

"  Are  these  the  General's  quarters  ?" 

"Yaw,  yaw,  General  Rosey.  Dat  is  he,  dat  is  he,"  replied 
the  "adopted  citizen,"  pointing  to  an  officer  on  a  powerful 
gray,  at  the  head  of  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  which  just  then  was 
thundering  down  the  road.  The  escort  halted  abreast  of  the 
principal  entrance,  and  the  officer — a  straight,  compactly  built, 
quick  motioned  man,  in  a  rusty  uniform,  a  worn  slouched  hat, 


A    DAY    WITH    liO^Kt'KAXS.  197 

and  niud-encrusted  cavalry  boots — sprang  to  the  ground.  A 
few  other  officers  followed  him,  and  then,  without  a  word  being 
spoken,  the  cavalry  wheeled,  and  thundered  down  tho  road 
again. 

"  And  that  is  the  General  V  I  said  to  the  soldier. 

"  Yaw,  yaw,  dat  is  old  Rosey.     I  fights  mit  him." 

"  Then,  you  don't  '  fight  mit  Sigel  V  "  I  rejoined,  smiling. 

"Yaw,  yaw,  I  fights  mit  Segel  py-me-by  (before.)  1  fights 
mit  Rosey  now.     llim  better  as  Sigel." 

Not  pausing  to  discuss  the  respective  merits  of  the  two  com- 
manders, I  entered  the  wide  hall  of  the  larger  building,  and 
said  to  an  orderly  on  duty  near  the  door-way  : 

"  Will  you  take  my  name  to  the  General  ?" 

"  Av  coorse,  yer  honor,"  replied  the_  soldier,  his  month  dis- 
tending into  a  good-natured  grin ;  "  but  as  ye  knows  it  an'  I 
don't,  hedn't  ye  better  be  after  lakin'  it  ter  him  yerself.  Ye'U 
find  him  in  there." 

Following  the  direction  in  which  he  pointed,  I  entered  a  room 
at  the  left,  on  the  door  of  which  were  posted,  in  large  letters, 
the  words  "  Aides-de-Camp."  It  was  a  square,  spacious  apart- 
ment, with  a  huge  fire-place  surmounted  by  a  wooden  mantel, 
a  smoke-begrimed  ceiling,  dingy  walls,  covered  with  gaudy 
paper  hangings,  and  two  wide  windows  looking  out  upon  the 
street.  A  camp  cot,  dressed  in  a  soldier's  blanket,  and  a  pair 
of  jackboots,  stood  in  one  corner,  and  in  the  others  were  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  sw^ords,  spurs,  muskets,  knapsacks, 
and  kindred  articles  known  to  modern  vvarfare.  A  variety  of 
dilapidated  chairs,  and  canvas-bottomed  stools,  straggled  about 
the  floor,  and  between  the  windows  was  a  large  round  table, 
littered  over  with  maps,  newspapers,  and  writing  utensils.     At 


198  DOVVN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

this  table  were  two  or  three  young  gentlemen  in  the  uniform  of 
staff  officers,  and  addressing  one  of  them,  I  asked  if  the  General 
were  "  visible"  so  early  in  the  day.  He  replied  that  he  was 
then  at  breakfast,  but  that  the  Chief  of  Staff  could  be  seen  at 
once.  Expressing  a  desire  to  meet  that  gentleman,  I  was  con- 
ducted into  an  adjoining  room,  of  smaller  dimensions  but  fur- 
nished in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  other.  In  a  corner 
by  the  window,  seated  at  a  small  pine  desk, — a  sort  of  packing 
box,  perched  on  a  long-legged  stool,  and  divided  into  pigeon- 
holes, with  a  turn-down  lid — was  a  tall,  deep-chested,  sinewy 
built  man,  with  regular,  massive  features,  a  full,  clear  blue  eye, 
slightly  dashed  with  gray,  and  a  high,  broad  forehead,  rising 
into  a  ridge  over  the  eyes  as  if  it  had  been  thrown  up  by  a 
plough.  There  was  something  singularly  engaging  in  his  open, 
expressive  face,  and  his  whole  appearance  indicated,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  "  great  reversed  power."  His  uniform,  though 
cleanly  brushed,  and  setting  easily  upon  him,  had  a  sort  of 
democratic  air,  and  every  thing  about  him  seemed  to  denote 
that  he  was  "  a  man  of  the  people."  A  rusty  slouched  hat 
large  enough  to  have  fitted  Daniel  Webster,  lay  on  the  desk 
before  him,  but  a  glance  at  that  was  not  needed  to  convince 
me  that  his  head  held  more  than  the  common  share  of  brains. 
Though  he  is  yet  young — not  thirty-three — the  reader  has  heard 
of  him,  and  if  he  lives,  he  will  make  his  name  long  remembered 
in  our  history.  He  glanced  at  me  as  I  approached,  and  when 
I  mentioned  my  name,  rose,  and  extending  his  hand  in  a  free, 
cordial  way,  said : 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you.  I  have  seen  your  handwriting 
,  his  (X)  mark." 

"And  I  have  seen  yours,"  I  replied,  grasping  his  hand   with 


A   DAY    Wn'H    ROSECEANS.  199 


equal  cordiality.     "  But,  you  write  with  a  steel  pen — epics,  in 
the  measure  of  Hail  Columbia.* 

I  sat  down,  and  in  ten  minutes  knew  him  as  well  as  I  might 
have  known  some  other  men  in  ten  years.  Nearly  an  hour 
had  slipped  away  in  pleasant  chat  with  him,  and  my  intended 
interview  with  Rosecrans  was  almost  forgotten,  when  GaincKl 
reminded  me  that  I  had  better  see  the  General  before  he  was 
overrun  with  visitors.  Opening  the  door  of  an  inner  room,  he 
led  me  at  once  into  another  large,  square  apartment,  which 
had,  like  the  first,  a  bare  floor,  and  greasy  walls,  hung  round 
with  maps,  and  decorated  with  gaudy  paper-hangings,  done 
into  panels  huge  enough  to  have  fitted  the  "  grand  hall"  of  the 
Mammoth  Cave.  At  the  right  of  the  doorway  was  a  high- 
post  bedstead,  covered  with  a  spotless  white  counterpane,  and 
about  the  room,  in  appropriate  places,  were  a  few  hard-bot- 
tomed chairs,  a  pine  wash-stand,  with  earthenware  wash-basin,' 
and  wooden  water-pail,  and  an  old-fashioned  sideboard,  evi- 
dently the  left-behind  property  of  the  previous  occupant  On 
the  mantel  were  a  few  books,  a  brace  of  revolvers,  a  silver- 
hilted  sword  bearing  marks  of  "  actual  service,"  and  two  or 
three  kerosene  lamps,  which,  to  all  appearance,  had  done  abso- 
lutely nothing  towards  dispelling  the  darkness  of  this  *'  be- 
nighted world."  Against  the  wall,  by  the  front  window,  was  a 
large  pine  table,  surmounted  by  a  frame-work  of  "  pigeon  holes," 
and  on  it  were  various  open  maps,  several  secession  newspapers, 
some  bundles  of  "  official  documents"  done  up  in  "  red  tape," 

*  "When  about  to  lead  the  final  charge  at  the  battle  of  Middle-Creek, 
General  Garfield  pulled  ofif  his  coat,  tossed  it  up  into  a  tree  and,  turning 
to  his  men,  cried :  "Come  on,  boys!  Give  them  Hail  Columbia."  The 
men  threw  up  their  caps  with  a  wild  shout,  rushed  at  the  enemy,  and 
drove  them  from  the  field,  General  Garfield  leading  the  way. 


200  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

and  a  huge  pile  of  unopened  letters.  There  seemed  a  place  for 
every  thing  and  every  tliing  seemed  in  its  place,  but  the  mingled 
air  of  rustic  simplicity  and  faded  gentility  which  pervaded  the 
room,  had  a  most  grotesque  effect,  and  only  one  object  in  it 
at  all  indicated  that  it  Avas  the  private  apartment  of  one  of  the 
first  military  men  of  the  time.  That  one  object  was  Rose- 
crans  himself. 

He  sat  bolt  upright  in  a  rosewood  arm-chair,  covered  with 
faded  brocatelle,  and  sadly  out  at  the  elbows;  and,  with  a 
cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  a  knife  in  his  hand,  was  rapidly  dis- 
secting the  letters  which  lay  on  the  table  before  him.  When 
my  name  was  mentioned  he  rose,  took  my  hand,  and  gave  me 
a  quick,  searching  glance.  In  that  glance — I  felt  it — he 
sounded  me,  took  my  measure — as  accurately  as  if  he  had  been 
my  tailor — and,  with  unerring  decision,  fixed  my  exact  place 
in  the  scale  of  creation.  From  my  first  entrance  into  Ken- 
tucky, from  high  and  low,  black  and  white,  bond  and  free, 
military  men  and  civilians,  I  had  heard  nothing  but  extrava- 
gant eulogies  of  this  man,  and  I  had  come  prepared  to  be  dis- 
appointed in  him ;  but  that  one  glance,  the  indescribable  smile 
that  passed  over  his  face,  and  a  certain  atmosphere  of  power 
which  seemed  to  envelop  him,  made  me  feel  that,  for  once,  the 
popular  estimate  was  the  true  one.  And  no  one  ever  came 
within  his  influence  without  being  fascinated  as  I  was,  or  without 
feeling,  on  the  instant,  the  magnetism  of  a  great  nature.  Mo- 
tioning me  to  a  seat,  and  resuming  his  letters,  he  said,  while 
another  of  those  peculiar  smiles  passed  over  his  face  : 

"  I've  been  expecting  you." 

"  Expecting  me,  Sir !"  I  exclaimed  in  undisguised  astonish- 
ment.    '*  I've  heard  you  knew  every  thing.     I  reckon  it's  so." 


A    DAY    WITH    ROSECRANS.  201 

"  Not  exactly,  but  I  knew  you  were  coming.  You've  been 
announced,"  and  continuing  to  open  the  letters,  he  handed  me 
one  of  them. 

It  was  from  the  chaplain  of  an  Indiana  regiment,  whom  the 
red-faced  landlord  had  stowed  away  in  my  room  one  night  at 
Nashville.  The  worthy  gentleman  had  a  plan  for  educating 
the  blacks  in  "ten  lessons  of  one  hour  each,"  and,  not  content 
with  boring  me  with  it  till  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  had, 
without  ray  consent,  written  Rosecrans  referring  him  to  me  for 
"  further  particulars." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  that  man  ?"  he  asked,  going  on  with 
his  letters. 

"  Nothing.     I  never  saw  him." 

"  Never  saw  him  !" 

"  No.  I  went  to  bed  without  a  candle,  and  he  left  before  I 
awoke  in  the  morning." 

"  But  you  formed  some  opinion  of  hirn.     What  was  it?" 

"  That  he  knew  about  as  much  of  the  Southern  negro,  as  I 
know  of  the  moon." 

"  I  thought  so.     A  mere  theorist.     Only  practical  men  are 

fit  for  the  work  we've  in  hand  Mr.  .     What  do  yo?t  think 

of  the  negro  ?" 

"  That  he  is  unfortunate  in  being  black,"  I  replied,  smiling. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  is  he  naturally  equal  to  the  white 
man  ?" 

'*  Measured  by  the  New  Testament  standard  he  may  be  su- 
perior— for  he  is  meek  enough  to  be  a  slave — but  measured  by 
o?/r  standard,  he  is  certainly  inferior.  He  has  not  the  aggressive 
qualities  of  the  white  man." 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  do  with  him  ?" 
9* 


202  r>0\VN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Let  him  alone." 

"  You  are  right,"  and  for  a  moment  he  dropped  the  letters. 
"  Give  him  a  Bible  and  a  spelling-book,  free  air,  and  a  chance 
for  sometliiiig  more  than  six  feet  of  God's  earth,  and.  Let  IIim 
Alone." 

Saying  this  he  dived  again  into  his  correspondence. 

"  This  war  will  give  him  all  that,"  I  replied. 

"  Yes,  and  it  will  give  it  to  every  working  man,  black  or 
white.  This  is  the  working  man's  war.  For  four  thousand 
years  labor  has  been  struggling  for  its  rights — now  it  will  get 
them.  "Would  to  God  that  every  poor  man,  North  and  South, 
could  realize  this." 

He  kept  on  reading,  but  his  fine  face  flushed,  his  nervous  lip 
quivered,  and  his  clear,  luminous  eye  actually  blazed,  as  he 
spoke  these  words. 

*'  I  am  glad  you  sympathize  with  the  working  man,"  1 
said. 

"  Sympathize  with  him  !  I  honor  him.  He  is  the  true 'noble- 
man. Did  you  never  read  where  it  says,  '  cursed  is  the  ground 
for /Ay  sake  r  Does  not  that  mean  that  God  ordained  labor 
for  our  good  ?  that  it  is  our  highest  glory  ?" 

The  mass  of  letters,  by  this  time,  had  adjusted  themselves 
into  several  separate  heaps,  and  touching  a  small  bell  which 
stood  on  the  table,  he  said  to  a  young  oflScer  who  at  once  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway:  "Torapey,  hand  these  to  Goddard, 
these  to  Barnett,  these  to  Taylor,  and  send  this  to  Ducat,  and 
then  come  here  with  the  Major.  I've  letters  to  write.  Is  any 
one  waiting  to  see  me  ?" 

*'  Yes,  sir ;  the  Medical  Director  and  half  a  dozen  others," 
answered  the  aide. 


A    DAY    WITU    ROSECRANS.  203 

"  Ask  them  in,"  and   turning   to  me,  he  added :  "  Captain 

Thompson,  this  is  our  guest,  Mr. .     Get  him  a  pass  to  go 

and  come  when  he  likes.  Give  him  a  horse,  and  a  squad, 
whenever  he  wants  to  go  outside  of  tlie  lines.  He'll  stay 
with  us  a  month  or  two." 

"  Say  a  day  or  two,"  I  interrupted,  laughing,  "  and  you'll 
come  nearer  the  truth."    • 

*'  Not  a  second  less  than  a  month.  You  can't  get  away  till  I 
give  you  a  pass." 

The  aide  disappeared,  and  the  Medical  Director,  and  the 
"halt"  a  dozen  others"  entered  the  room. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen.  Be  seated,"  said  Rosecrans. 
"  What  can  I  do  for  you.  Doctor  ?" 

"  The  health  of  the  men,  General,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "  with 
the  warm  w^eather  coming  on,  requires  more  vegetable  food. 
Would  it  not  be  well  to  order  potatoes?" 

"  I  ordered  them  six  weeks  ago — sent  an  officer  into  Ohio, 
and  for  seven  thousand  dollars  he  bought  what  would  have 
cost  us  twenty-one  thousand  in  Nashville.  They  ought  to 
have  been  here  before  now." 

"General,"  said  the  medical  man,  with  unaflfected  admira- 
tion, "  you  think  of  every  thing." 

"  I  have  to.  Good  morning,  Doctor.  Colonel,  what  can  I 
do  for  you  V  added  the  laconic  general,  turning  to  a  slightly- 
built,  dark-complexioned  young  man,  and  introducing  him  to 
me  as  follows :  "  Mr. ,  this  is  one  of  the  McCook's,  Colo- 
nel Dan.     You've  heard  of  him." 

At  this  moment  the  aides  came  in,  and  seated  themselves  at 
the  two  opposite  corners  of  the  pine  table.  An  orderly  also 
entered,  and  handed  the  General  a  note  from  one  of  the  Corps 


204  DOW.N    IN    TENNESSEK. 

commanders.  Rosccrans  introduced  me  to  "  the  Major" — the 
other  aide — dictated  to  him  a  reply  to  the  note,  and  in  the 
same  breath  said  to  McCook : 

"  Now,  Colonel,  what  is  it  ?" 

**My  men,"  said  McCook,  "in  half  an  hour  yesterday,  sub- 
scribed four  thousand  dollars  to  get  the  Henry  rifle.  I  want 
liberty  to  use  it." 

While  the  Colonel  was  speaking,  the  General  took  up  the 
pile  of  letters  remaining  on  the  table,  and  began  dictating  to 
the  two  aides. 

"Can  they  liit  an  elephant  at  a  hundred  paces?"  he  asked. 

"  Two  hundred  of  them  can  hit  the  head  of  a  candle  box 
three  times  in  five,  at  three  hundred  yards,"  rejoined  McCook, 
a  flush  of  pride  on  his  foce.  A  discussion  as  to  the  merits  of 
the  difierent  kinds  of  rifles  ensued,  but  not  understanding  it 
then,  I  cannot  report  it  now.  Meanwhile  the  General  was  dic- 
tating as  fast  as  the  two  aides  could  write,  and  addressing  an 
occasional  remark  to  me.  McCook  had  done  speaking,  when  a 
very  tall,  ungainly  man,  with  stooping  shoulders,  and  long 
white  hair,  entered  the  room,  and  stalking  directly  up  to  the 
General,  and  taking  his  hand,  said  : 

"  I'm  going  by  the  train.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  and  God  bless  you,"  returned  Rosccrans,  rising. 
"If  you  ever  want  to  come  back,  we'll  find  a  warm  place  Tor 
you." 

"  I  know  you  will.  I've  had  experience  of  your  warm 
places,"  rejoined  the  veteran,  smiling. 

"  And  he  likes  them,"  said  the  General,  turning  to  me. 
"  At  Stone  River,  in  the  hottest  fire,  when  his  men  were 
hugging  the  ground  as  if  they'd  bury  themselves,  the  Parson 


A    DAY    WITH    ROSECKANS.  ^^Oo 

got  np  and  made   them  a  speech,  and  they  do   say,  he  told 

thein— " 

"Xo,  I  didn't.     Don't  traduce   your  friends,   General,"   re- 
joined the  Parson,  laughing.     "  Good-by." 

"Good-bv,  and  God  bless  you,"  said  the  General. 
«Good-by,    boys,    all   of  yon,"    said   the   Parson,    wannly. 
Every  officer  in  the  room  grasped  his  hand,  and  amid  a  chorus 
of  "  God  bless  yous"  he  went  out.     It  ^vas  -  the  fighting  Par- 
son,"  Colonel  Moody  of  the  74th  Ohio. 

A  half  a  dozen  others  now  crowded  around  and  addressed 
Rosccrans,  who  replied  to  each,  and  at  the  same  time  kept  on 
dictatincr,  his  words  all  the  while  pouring  forth  in  quick,  terse 
sentencrs,  his  luminous  eyes  smiling,  and  his  nervous  fingers 
thrumming  an  odd  accompaniment  on  the  ragged  arm  of  his 
chair.  In  all  this  he  manifested  no  eflfort.  I  thought  he 
could  have  done  twice  as  much  had  it  been  possible  for 
words  to  flow  faster.  His  mind  seemed  to  act  with  lightning 
rapidity,  flashing  from  premise  to  conclusion,  and  grasping  with 
ease  half'a  dozen  subjects  in  almost  instantaneous  succession. 

At  last  I  said  to  him  : 

"  I  have  seen  business  m'en  turn  off  work,  but  never  any  who 

did  it  half  so  fast  as  you." 

«  I  have  been  a  business  man.  There  are  some  relics  of  my 
business  career.  I  have  credit  io.  those  at  the  Patent  Office," 
he  replied,  pointing  to  the  lamps  on  the  mantel-piece.^  They 
were  the  "  Patent  Kerosene  Burners,  warranted  to  give  out 
neither  smoke  nor  odor,"  which  every  American  housewife 
values,  but  which  every  American  housewife  may  not  know  she 
owes  to  a  Major-Gcneral. 

Another  aide  then  entered,  and  announced  that  several  ladies 


206  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  about  to  depart  by  the  train,  de- 
sired to  take  leave  of  the  General.  "  Show  them  in,"  he  replied, 
rising,  and  taking  a  single  turn  up  and  down  the  room.  This 
seemed  a  well  understood  signal,  for  all  present  except  the 
aides  at  once  left  the  apartment.  I  was  rising  to  follow 
when  he  said  to  me  :  '*  Don't  go.  Stay,  and  after  lunch  we'll 
ride  out  to  Sherridan's." 

,  The  ladies  came  in,  and  the  General  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  them  in  a  free  and  vivacious  manner,  as  if  the  in- 
terests of  a  vast  army,  and  movements  involving  the  lives  of 
thousands  had  not,  the  moment  before,  engaged  his  attention. 
They  were  all  "  on  the  shady  side  of  forty,"  and  one  was  not 
a  day  younger  than  fifty  ;  but  he  addressed  them  throughout 
the  interview  as  "  young  ladies."  When  they  had  gone,  I  said 
to  him  :  "  Don't  consider  me  impertinent,  but  I  am  curious  to 
know  why  you  called  your  visitors  '  young  ladies.'  " 

"  Because  they  are  young.  Any  woman  who  comes  a  thou- 
sand miles  to  attend  on  sick  and  dying  men  must  be  young- 
young  of  soul — and,  no  matter  how  old  she  grows,  she'll  always 
be  young." 

The  letters  were  written,  the  two  aides  had  disappeared,  and 
another  knot  of  officers  had  gathered  around  the  General,  when 
a  short,  stout,  thick-necked  man,  with  puffy  cheeks,  coarse, 
heavy  features,  and  very  much  the  air  of  a  Bowery  boy  rigged 
out  in  reorimentals,  swao-Qjered  into  the  room  with  his  hat  on. 
Giving  no  heed  to  the  galaxy  of  generals  and  major-generals 
about  me,  he  stalked  up  to  Rosecrans,  and  said  to  him  :  "  Can 
I  see  you  ?"  They  passed  to  the  farther  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  I  asked  the  gentleman  nearest  me  :  "  Who  is  he  ?" 
"  General  McCook,"  was  the  answ^er. 


A    DAY    WITH    liOSECRANS.  207 

It  was  Major-General  Alexander  McDowell  McCook — the 
"  fighting  McCook" — who  never  fought  without  being  beaten, 
and  has  probably  wasted  more  lives  tliai  any  ten  generals  in 
thie  army. 

"  Why  do  you  always  attack  McCook  ?"  I  asked  Captain 
Firman,  the  rebel  General  Wheeler's  aide,  a  short  time  after- 
wards. "  Because  we  arc  always  sure  to  whip  him,"  was  his 
reply. 

While  the  two  generals  were  in  conversation,  a  spare,  sallow- 
faced,  dark-haired  man,  who  had  the  air  and  manners  of  a 
irentleman,  entered  the  room,  and  bowing  to  the  officers  about 
me,  joined  the  two  in  the  corner.  "  That  is  Crittenden,"  said 
the  officer.    "  They  are  here  for  consultation.     We  must  leave." 

We  all  passed  into  General  Garfield's  apartment,  and  every 
chair  and  stool  in  the  room,  and  the  low  camp-cot  in  the  cor- 
ner, were  soon  filled  with  "  sitters" — and  sitters  who  would 
grace  any  portrait-gallery  in  the  world. 

The  reader  has  heard  of  every  one  of  them.  The  stout,  full- 
faced,  florid-complexioned  man,  leaning  against  the  wall  by  the 
window,  was  the  "  old  Russian"  Turchin.  The  very  tall,  slim 
young  man,  with  long,  dark  hair  and  flowing  beard,  just  then 
canted  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  long  legs  perched  on  the 
window-sill,  was  the  Chief  of  Cavalry — Stanley.  The  hand- 
some man  next  to  him,  with  wavy,  brown  hair,  and  face  so 
much  like  Lowell's,  was  St.  Clair  Morton,  who  might  be  a  poet, 
and  is  a  hero.  The  scarred  warrior  on  his  right,  with  long, 
white  beard,  thin,  gray  tufts  on  the  sides  of  his  head,  and  spec- 
tacles on  his  nose,  was  Van  Cleve ;  and  leaning  against  the 
wall,  at  his  back,  the  dark  man,  with  keen,  intense  eyes,  heavy 
black    beard,    and    coarse,   wiry    hair,   starting  up  into  a  sort 


208  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

of  pyramid  on  the  top  of  his  head,  was  Jeff.  C.  Davis,  who 
killed  Xelson.  The  plain,  farmer-like,  plncky-looking  man  on 
my  right,  was  Palmer — now  commanding  the  Fourteenth 
Corps.  The  tall  man  next  to  him,  in  rusty  uniform  and  big 
boots,  with  a  full,  clear  eye,  and  expressive  face,  was  Xegley ; 
and  in  other  parts  of  the  room  were  Hazen,  Lytic,  Reynolds, 
Harker,  King,  McKibben,  and  others,  "  too  numerous  to 
mention." 

Thrusting  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  Garfield  wheeled  about  on 
his  stool,  and  opened  the  conversation.  It  soon  turned  upon 
the  rebellion,  which  he  compared  to  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline. 
It  had,  he  said,  the  same  origin  and  objects,  and  was  set  afoot 
by  a  similar  class  of  bankrupt  scoundrels.  A  discussion  followed, 
and  in  it,  Garfield — who,  at  fifteen,  drove  horses  on  a  canal, 
and  worked  his  way  through  College  with  a  saw  and  a  jack- 
plane — displayed  a  classical  knowledge  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  any  Harvard  professor.  At  its  close,  a  singularly 
quiet,  unassuming  man,  in  plain  pants,  loose,  blue  sack,  and 
every -day  boots,  entered  the  room,  and  took  a  seat  on  the 
window-sill,  by  the  side  of  Stanley.  He  was  below  the  me- 
dium height,  slightly  built,  with  closely-cut  hair  and  beard, 
and  a  dark,  sun-browned  face.  There  was  nothing  about  him 
to  attract  attention,  except  his  eye,  but  that  seemed  a  ball  of 
black  flame.  "  How^  are  you,  Phil  ?"  "  Good  morning,  Sherri- 
dan,"  greeted  him  from  various  parts  of  the  room,  and  Gar- 
field, turning  to  me,  said  :  "  Mr. ,  this  is  General  Sherridan." 

It  was  the  yoimgest  corps  commander  in  the  army — the  man 
who,  when  McCook  was  routed,  stood  so  like  a  wall  at  Stone 
River ;  who  led  the  desperate  assault  on  Mission  Ridge,  and  has 
recently  made  th^  brilliant  cavalry  campaign  in  Virginia. 


A    DAY    WITH    ROSECRANS.  20^ 

"Do  you  remember  Pope's  thirty  thousand  muskets  and  ten 
thousand  prisoners?"  asked  a  young  officer  near  me. 

"Yes,  very  well,"  I  replied. 

"I  took  the  muskets,  and  Sherridan  took  the  men.  IIow 
many  were  there,  Sherridan  ?" 

"I  don't  remember,"  answered  the  quiet  general. 

"  Well,  I  remember  the  muskets  ;  they  counted  nine  hun- 
dred and  thirty — not  one  more  or  less." 

"  I  was  with  Pope  at  the  second  battle  of  Booneville,"  said 
another  general,  "  when  Sherridan  rode  up  and  reported  sixty- 
five  prisoners.  '  Wliy  don't  you  say  five  hundred  V  said  Pope. 
'Because  there  are  only  sixty-five,'  said  Sherridan.  'There 
ought  to  be  five  hundred — call  them  five  hundred,  any  way,' 
said  Pope  ;  and  five  hundred  they  were — but  not  in  Sherridan  s 
report." 

A  general  laugh  followed,  but  the  quiet  hero  said  nothing, 
and,  in  all  I  saw  of  him  afterwards,  I  never  heard  him  speak 
disparagingly  of  any  one. 

"  You  got  through  at  last,  Sir,"  just  then  said  a  voice  at  my 
elbow.  Turning  round,  I  saw  a  thin,  spare  man,  with  bushy, 
gray  hair,  and  about  the  keenest  eye  I  ever  saw,  looking 
in  at  the  window.  He  was  dressed  in  citizen's  clothes,  and 
had  under  his  arm  a  paper  box  filled  with  letters. 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  replied,  "I  got  through.  But  where  have  I 
met  you,  Sir  ?" 

"Probably  nowhere,  but  I  know  you,"  he  replied,  smiling; 
"you  see  I  have  to  look  after  suspicions  new-comers." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  my  expense,  and  Stanley, 
glancing  at  the  box  of  letters,  said  to  the  civilian  : 

"  Robbing  the  mails  again,  eh,  Colonel  ?" 


210  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  Yes,  bagged  ^vo  thousand  dollars  this  inorning ;"  and,  ad- 
dressing me,  he  added  :  "  Some  of  your  New  York  gift-book 
and  bogus-jewelry  concerns,  tempt  our  boys  to  waste  money 
on  their  worthless  trash.  I  head  them  oflf  by  watching 
the  mails.  I've  stopped  seventeen  thousand  dollars  within  a 
fortnight — sent  it  back  to  the  boys  with  a  little  good  advice, 
gratis." 

"  You  deserve  the  thanks  of  every  soldier's  wife  and  mother 
in  the  country,"  I  said  warmly. 

But  he  has  not  received  even  their  thanks,  and  his  great  ser- 
vices have  had  the  poorest  possible  recognition  from  the  Gov 
ernment.  It  was  *'  Colonel "  Truesdail  who  organized  the 
admirable  spy-system  of  the  Cumberland  array,  which  gave 
Rosecrans  such  perfect  information  of  the  movements  of  the 
enemy. 

Just  then  the  inner  door,  opened,  and  McCook,  looking  for 
all  the  world  as  if  he  had  the  universe  on  his  shoulders,  and 
found  it  decidedly  heavy,  passed  through  the  apartment,  and 
soon  Rosecrans  and  Crittenden  appeared,  and  we  went  in  to 
lunch. 

At  Stone  River,  during  the  second  day's  fight,  a  young 
cavalry  officer  rode  up  to  General  Thomas  for  orders.  "  Re- 
port to  Morton — at  the  front,"  said  the  General,  and  shouting 
to  his  men,  the  young  man  dashed  on  to  where  the  battle  was 
raging  hotly.  Morton  was  not  there.  On  he  went  again 
to  where  Palmer  was  rolling  back  the  red  waves  on  the  left, 
but — Morton  was  not  there.  On  again  he  went,  through  the 
thick  smoke  and  the  hurtling  fire,  to  where  Hazen  was  reaping 
a  harvest  of  death  on  that  terrible  "  half-acre ;"  but — Morton 
was  not  there.     "  Where  is    Morton  ?"    he    cried.       "  At   the 


A    DAY    WITH    ROSECEANS.  211 

front !"  came  back  from  out  the  smoke,  and  again  he  rode  on 
— rode  on  past  the  "  Barnt  House" — past  where  Rosecrans 
sat  like  a  statue  amid  a  hailstorm  of  fire — past  where  a  reeking 
funeral  pile  marked  the  outer  line  of  intrenchraents — on  to  the 
cannon-ploughed,  death-strewn  cotton-field!  "Is  he  mad? 
Call  him  back !  Call  him  back  !"'  shouted  the  General,  but  the 
bugle  was  drowned  in  the  awful  uproar,  and  still  he  rode  on- 
ward. Amazed  the  rebel  gunners  stood  at  their  pieces,  but 
straight  at  them  he  rode  with  his  handful  of  men.  "  I  say, 
Rebs,"  he  shouted,  ''where  is  Morton?"  "Gone  where  you 
are  going,"  they  answered,  and  the  cannon  echoed  "  Gone,"  and 
he  went — back  again,  not  a  man  wounded. 

That  young  officer — Lieutenant  Kelley,  4th  U.  S.  Cavalry — 
and  the  men  who  rode  in  that  terrible  ride,  escorted  us  out  to 
Sherridan's. 

As  we  entered  the  forest  encircling  the  town,  Garfield  broke 
out  with  Hosea  Bigelow's  poem : 

"I  du  believe  iu  Freedom's  cause," 

and  if  the  "  down-east  poet"  would  have  any  appreciation  of 
his  own  lines,  he  should  hear  them  in  some  such  grand  old  woods, 
the  words  echoed  back  from  the  great  spreading  trees,  and  set 
to  the  music  of  a  hundred  horse's  heels.  He  had  scarcely 
ended,  when  the  General  began  to  tell  how  : 

"Zekle  crep'  up,  quite  unbeknown, 
Au'  peeked  in  thru  the  winder ; 
While  there  sot  Huldv  all  alone, 
'ith  no  one  nigh  to  hender." 

"  What  would  you  give  to  have  written  that  ?"  he  said,  as 
he  finished  the  recitation. 


212  DOWN   IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  All  the  castles  I  ever  built  in  the  clouds,"  I  replied. 

"  So  would  I.  You  know  what  Wolfe  said  before  his  great 
battle  r' 

"  That  he  would  rather  have  written  Gray's  Elegy  than 
take  Quebec.  Would  yoa  have  said  that  before  Stone 
River  ?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  answered  :  "  Xo ;  for  now 
we  need  victories  more  than  poems." 

"As  I  came  down,  I  saw  the  battle-field — what  were  your 
sensations  when  under  fire  so  constantly  all  of  that  day  ?" 

"  I  had  no  sensations.  I  was  absorbed  in  planning  how 
to  beat  them." 

Just  then  an  opening  in  the  trees  showed  us  several  thousand 
men  under  review,  in  a  field  ofi:  at  the  left. 

"It  is  Negley's  division.  Let  us  ride  over  there,  General," 
said  Garfield. 

We  turned  our  horses  and  galloped  ofi"  through  the  forest. 
Tlie  underbrush  was  cleared  away,  and  a  rich  sward  of  "  blue 
grass"  covered  the  ground,  but  every  here  and  there  a  great 
tree  felled  for  the  fortifications,  obstructed  our  way.  One  of 
these  trunks — eighty  feet  long  and  nearly  ten  feet  thick  at  the 
base — lay  directly  across  our  path.  Garfield  and  I,  who  rode 
on  either  side  of  the  General,  reined  our  horses  around  its  two 
ends,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  divided  and  followed  us,  but 
Rosecrans  spurred  "  Toby"  directly  at  the  trunk,  and  cleared  it 
at  a  bound. 

"  Well  done,  General,"  I  shouted  ;  "  you  fire  straight  at  the 
mark." 

"  It's  the  surest  way  to  hit  it,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

Clearing  a  low  fence  into  a  cotton  field,  we  soon  "  turned"  a 


A    DAY    AVIXn    ROSECRANS. 


213 


small  hill,  and  were  abreast  of  the  division.     As  the  well-known 
"gray"  came  in  sight,  the  soldiers  set  up  a  loud  shout,  and  un- 
covering his  head,  the  General  rode  down  the  lines.     Halting 
every  now  and  then  he  spoke  to  the  men.     "  You  keep  your- 
self tidy,  Patrick.     You  can  fight,"  he  said  to  one.     "  I  kin 
fight  for  yc,  Ginfral,  be  Jabers."     "Leave  out  the  hard  words, 
m°y  man.     Brave  men  never  swear."     Passing  before  a  com- 
pany  of  Tennesseans,  he   said  :  "  You've  had   mountain   air ;  ' 
there's  not  a  pale  face  among  you."     "  Ye've  guv'n  us  exercise, 
Gen'ral.     Guv  us  more  on  it,"  was  the  answer.     "  Til  give  you 
enough-never  fear."     To  a  mere  boy,  he  said  :  "  I  saw  you 
at  Stone  River-you  fought  like  a  man."     "They've  made  a 
man  of  me,  sir,"  said  the  soldier,  pointing  to  the  stripes  on  his 
arm.     "I   saw    ye   thar,    Gen'ral,"    said    another.     "My    old 
'ooman  prayed  fur  ye,  an'  thet's  the  how  ye  'scaped."     "  Tell 
her  for  me,  God  bless  her,"  said  Rosccrans  as  he  rode  on. 
.    And  so  we  went  down  the  lines,  the  General  halting  every 
few  minutes  to  say  some  free  word  to  the  soldiers,  and  greeted, 
at  every  step,  with  cheers  and  "  God  bless  yous."     That  ride 
showed  me  why  his  men  worship  him. 

As  we  reined  our  horses  again  towards  the  woods,  he  said  to 
me:  "Do  you  see  that  young  man  yonder?"  "That  quiet, 
modest  looking  Brigadier?"  I  asked.  "Yes.  It's  Carlin.  At 
Stone  River  he  sat  his  horse  as  coolly  as  he  does  now." 

At  Sherridan's  I  saw  Rosecrans  unbent.  The  bow  which  is 
always  strung  loses  its  power  :  so  workers,  such  as  he,  wear  out 
by  constant  working.  The  hour  of  relaxation  is  the  time  to 
learn  any  man,  and  then  I  tried  to  study  him.  Sherridan  had 
invented  a  game  he  called  "Dutch  Ten-Pins."  On  the  lawn 
in  front  of  his  quarters,  between  two  immense  elms,  he  had 


214  DOWN    EN    TENNESSEE. 

suspended  a  long  ropo,  and  to  the  end  of  it  attached  a 
small  cannon-ball.  On  the  ground,  midway  between  these 
trees,  was  a  square  board  which  held  the  ten-pins.  The  game 
lav  in  throwing  the  ball  so  that  it  would  miss  the  pins  in  going 
out,  and  strike  them  in  coming  back.  To  do  this,  a  peculiar 
twist  had  to  be  given  to  the  rope  by  bending  the  wrist,  and  it 
seemed  almost  impossible  to  avoid  hitting  the  pins  on  the 
direct  throw.  Three  "throws"  were  "a  game,"  and  only 
thirty  "  strokes"  could  be  made.  Slierridan,  by  much  practice, 
had  become  expert  at  the  play,  and  could  make,  pretty  regu- 
larly, twenty  "strokes,"  but  a  novice  did  well  if  he  made  ten. 
He  soon  challenged  Rosecrans,  and  the  dozen  officers  with 
him,  to  enter  the  lists.  Sherridan  opened  the  play,  cleared 
the  board  twice,  and  missed  it  altogether  the  third  throw. 
"Twenty,"  cried  the  "scorer,"  and  another  player  took  his 
place.  He  did  indifferently  well.  Others  followed  with  more 
or  less  success,  though  none  came  up  to  Sherridan's  "  score." 

"  Now  for  the  General,"  shouted  "  the  Major,"  laughing,  as 
Rosecrans  took  his  place.     "  He'll  score  thirty,  sure." 

"  Don't  laugh  till  you  win,  my  boy,"  answered  the  General, 
with  his  peculiar  smile. 

Calculating  deliberately  the  motion  of  the  ball,  he  let  it  go. 
Every  pin  fell,  on  the  direct  throw,  and  a  general  laugh  fol- 
lowed. Xot  at  all  disconcerted,  he  tried  again  and  again,  till 
he  had  played  three  or  four  "games,"  with  scarcely  better  suc- 
cess. Amid  the  mock  congratulations  of  the  whole  assemblage 
he  at  last  sat  down,  and  Garfield  entered  the  lists.  "It's 
nothing  but  mathematics,"  said  Garfield ;  "  you  only  need  an 
eye  and  a  hand,"  and  carelessly  throwing  the  ball,  he  cleared 
the  board  and  scored  twentv-three  ! 


A    DAY    WITH    ROSECEANS.  215 

*'  You  can't  do  that  again." 

"  ril  try,"  answered  the  modest  Brigadier,  and  he  did  do  it, 
several  times  in  succession. 

"  I  can  do  better  than  that,''''  said  Rosccrans,  again  taking 
•the  ball.  A  shout  of  derision  followed  the  boast,  but  he  quietly 
set  himself  to  work,  and,  half  a  dozen  times  in  succession,  made 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  "  strokes."  As  he  resumed  his  seat, 
I  said  to  him  : 

"  That  leap  over  the  tree,  and  the  way  you've  won  this  game, 
have  shown  me  what  made  you  conquer  at  Stone  River." 

"  What  was  it  ?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

"  Directness — firing  straight  at  the  mark — and  a  kind  of  per- 
sistence which  makes  you  hold  on  till  you  succeed."  And 
those  two  qualities,  with  untiring  work,  have  raade-him  the 
great  man  and  the  great  general  that  he  is. 

For  hours  after  dinner,  and  far  into  the  night,  the  General 
was  as  intensely  occupied  as  during  the  morning.  Despatches 
were  read,  letters  dictated,  orders  given,  visitors  received,  and 
grave  questions  disposed  of,  with  a  celerity  tRat  taxed  his  aides 
to  the  utmost,  and  made  the  head  of  a  looker-on  almost  swim 
with  excitement.  "  Give  me  young  men  for  work,"  he  said, 
glancing  at  "  the  Major" — his  senior  aide,  Frank  S.  Bond,  of 
Cincinnati — "  these  sandy-haired  fellows,  who  can  drive  a  quill 
like  lightning." 

"  But  they  soon  wear  out,"  I  answered,  "  and  even  dark- 
haired  men  couldn't  long  stand  the  work  you  give  them." 

"Well,  they  do  well  while  they  last,  and  you  know  we  live 
in  deeds,  not  years." 

At  the  battle  of  luka,  an  oflScer  of  General  Ord's  stalf,  seeing 
a  division  of  rebels  about  to  flank  one  of  oui*  regiments,  rode 


216  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

up  and  informed  Rosecrans  of  the  danger.  "  Ride  on  and 
warn  Stanley,  at  once,"  said  the  General.  An  acre  on  fire,  and 
showered  with  bullets,  lay  between  them  and  the  menaced 
troops.  The  officer  looked  at  it,  and  said  :  "  General,  I  have  a 
wife  and  children." 

"  You  knew  that  when  you  came  here,"  said  the  General, 
coolly. 

"  I'll  go,  sir,"  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Stay  a  moment.  We  must  make  sure  of  this,"  and  hastily 
writing  some  despatches,  the  General  called  three  of  his  order- 
lies. Giving  a  despatch  to  each,  he  said  to  the  officer  :  "  Now 
go."  He  started,  and  at  intervals  of  about  fifty  yards,  bearing 
a  similar  message,  the  orderlies  followed.  The  officer  ran  the 
fiery  gauntlet,  and,  his  clothes  pierced  with  bullets,  and  his 
horse  reeling  from  a  mortal  wound,  reached  Stanley, — the 
orderlies  found  their  graves  on  that  acre  of  fire  ! 

To  that  officer.  Lieutenant  Colonel  Arthur  C.  Ducat,  In- 
spector-General of  the  Cumberland  army,  and  General  Thomas, 
I  was,  about  midnight  of  the  day  I  am  describing,  illustrating 
the  superior  advantages  of  slavery  as  a  bleaching  process,  when 
Rosecrans  approached,  and  laying  his  hand  on  General  Thomas's 
chair,  said : 

"  Speaking  of  white  blacks,  reminds  me  of  two  who  came 
within  the  lines  a  few  weeks  ago.  They  were  as  white  as  I  am 
— a  little  boy  and  girl,  belonging  to  *  General'  Chambers,  a  rich 
planter  and  a  '  strong  Union  man,'  living  some  twenty  miles  from 
here.  Chambers  called  on  me  the  other  day,  and  feeling  it  my 
duty  to  be  courteous  to  '  our  friends,'  I  asked  him  to  dinner. 
Every  moment  I  expected  he  would  broach  the  subject  of  his 
slaves,  but  he  left  without  saying  a  word  about  them.     How- 


A    DAY    ^VIT^    KOSECRANS.  217 

ever,  he  came  back  in  a  few  clays.     I  invited  him  agaia  to  din- 
ner, and  he  declined,  but  said  : 

"  Gen'ral,  some  on  my  property  has  come  inter  yer  lines. 
I  know'd  they  was  har  when  I  seed  yer  afore.  I  was  telled 
ye'd  yered  they  wus  ray  children, — ye  sees  they's  as  white  as  I 
is— an'  I  felt  sort  o'  delicate  like  'bout  axin'  yer  fur  'em  till  I 
couM  show,  fur  sartin,  they  wasn't.  They  is  my  nevye's— 
ycre's  the  papers  ter  prove  it." 

"  I  don't  see  what  difference  it  makes  whether  they  are  your 
children  or  your  nephew's,"  I  answered.  "  But  I  suppose 
you've  come  to  claim  them  ?" 

"That  is  what  I'se  come  for,  Gen'ral— I  s'pose  ye'll  guv 
'em  up?" 

"Of  course,"  I  replied;  "  we  are  not  negro-stealers.  Every 
man  shall  have  his  rights  within  my  lines." 

"  I  am  obleeged  ter  ye— much  obleeged  ter  ye,  Gen'ral,"  he 
said,  showing  strong  symptoms  of  hugging  me.  "  I  war  telled 
ye  wus  a  blasted  ab'lishioner,  an'  wu'dn't  guv  'em  up,  an'  I'm 
right  glad  ye  does,  fur  it'll  do  a  heap  uv  good  ;  it'll  cunciliate 
the  loyal  peeple  round  yere,  mightly.     Whar  is  they,  Gen'ral  ?" 

"  I  don't  know — Major  Bond  can  tell  you." 

"  Won't  it  'quire  an  order  frum  ye  ter  git  'em,  Gen'ral  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  you  only  need  to  ask  them  to  go— slavery  is  so 
benign  a  thing  that  even  white  children  must  love  it." 

"  An'  karn't  I  hev  'em  'less  they'll  go  peacerbly,"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  consternation. 

"  Of  course  not ;  you  must  use  no  force.  We  neither  steal 
negroes  nor  catch  them." 

"With  a  big  flea  in  his  ear,  he  left,  no  doubt  cursing  me  for 
a  '  blasted  ab'lishioner.'  " 
10 


218  DOWN    IX    TEXNESSKE. 

To  appreciate  tliis  action,  the  reader  needs  to  remember  that 
our  Government  was  then  pursuing  the  "conciliatory  policy,"  and 
that  nearly  every  department  commander  was  returning  fugi- 
tives. Rosecrans  sent  the  children  North,  and,  I  am  told,  is 
now  having  them  educated  at  his  own  expense. 

The  clock  h-id  struck  one  when  I  rose,  and  General  Thomas 
said  to  me  :  "  Come  to  my  quarters  to-morrow  ;  I  want  to  in- 
troduce you  to  one  or  two  of  the  prominent  Union  men  of  the 
district.'' 

I  remained  with  Rosecrans  nearly  a  month,  and  in  ,that  period 
saw  much  of  him,  meeting  him  every  day.  During  all  of  that 
time,  I  saw  nothing  of  the  brandy-drinking  or  opium-eating 
with  which  his  enemies  have  charged  him — and  I  should  have 
seen  it,  had  it  existed.  In  ail  our  intercourse,  I  found  him  as 
earnest  a  patriot,  as  honest  a  man,  as  true  and  Christian  a  gentle- 
man as,  I  think,  ever  lived ;  and  I  should  be  false  to  my  con- 
victions of  right  if  I  omitted  to  say,  that  those  who,  at  such  a 
time  as  this,  have  been  instrumental  in  burying  his  great  mili- 
tary talents  in  a  mere  civil  employment,  have  done  immense 
wrong  to  the  country.  It  is  not  our  most  excellent  President 
who  has  done  this.  He,  I  know,  thinks  of  Ro>ecrans  as  I  do. 
Xor  was  he  removed  because  of  the  repulse  at  Chickamauga. 
The  Government  has  exonerated  hiin  from  blame  in  that  affair  ; 
and  those  best  informed  have  told  me  that,  had  the  information 
on  which  he  acted  been  correct,  we  should  have  lost  Ten- 
nessee and  Kentucky,  had  he  done  differently  from  what  he 
did.  Time  is  said  to  take  its  revenges  ;  it  also  bestows  its  re- 
wards. It  will  reward  Rosecrans,  by  placing  his  name  among 
those  of  the  best  and  truest  men  in  our  history. 


A    DAY    WITH    R08ECRANS.  219 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

VIEWS      OF      SOUTHERN      MEN. 

At  General  Thomas's  quarters,  on  the  following  day,  I  met 
several  leading  men  of  the  district,  who  liad  "  suffered  the  loss 
of  all  things''  rather  than  deny  the  Union.  One  of  them — 
Colonel  Wisner,  of  the  County  of  Bedford — was  the  only  mem- 
ber of  the  Tennessee  Legislature  who,  to  the  very  end,  voted 
aixainst  the  schemes  of  the  secessionists.  He  had  the  moral 
courage,  at  the  time  of  the  June  election,  to  canvass  his  district 
in  the  face  of  a  thousand  rebel  bayonets.  The  soldiers  often 
Stterapted  to  break  up  the  meetings,  but  the  unarmed  people 
gathered  around  the  stands,  kept  off  the  soldiery,  and  bade 
him  "go  on."  The  result  was,  a  large  majority  of  the  votes 
of  his  county  were  cast  against  "  separation."  He  was  or- 
dered away  by  the  Confederate  authorities,  but  refused  to  go, 
and  only  went  at  last  on  being  taken  from  his  bed  by  a  squad 
of  soldiers.  He  was  bound  to  a  horse — he  refused  to  mount, 
or  to  keep  mounted — and  driven  in  that  plight  within  our 
lines. 

He  said  to  me  :  "  The  Southern  pro/^Ze  are  at  heart  loyal  to 
liberty.  They  think  they  are  fighting  for  it.  Disabuse  them 
of  the  error,  and  all  of  them  will  be  Union  men.  Give  me 
free  speech,  and  in  six  months  I  will  revolutionize  one-half  of 
this  State.     Bosson  will  do  the  other  half." 

*'  But  the  Emancipation  proclamation  must  stand.  Will  the 
masses  come  cordially  back  if  the  blacks  are  freed  ?" 


220  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

"  They  will,  unless  you  attempt  to  give  the  slaves  suffrage. 
H  you  do  that,  the  poor  Avhites  will  fight  until  not  a  man  is 
left.  They  think  themselves  superior — they  are  superior  to  the 
negroes,  and  they  will  never  consent  to  blacks  making  laws 
for  whites." 

"  But  the  abolitionists,"  I  said,  laughing,  "  have  hit  upon  a 
plan  for  bleaching  the  blacks — making  good  white  men  of 
them." 

"  That  is  absurd.  You  know  the  black  does  not  seek  the 
white,  but  the  white  the  black.  Free  the  negro,  give  him 
control  of  his  own  person,  and  amalgamation  will  totally 
cease." 

"  I  think  so  ;  and  that,  to  me,  is  one  of  the  strongest  rea- 
sons for  abolishing  slavery.  But  if  the  blacks  are  all  emanci- 
pated, what  state  of  things  will  follow  ?" 

"  There  would  be  no  change  at  first.  The  South  needs 
labor,  and  the  blacks  would  give  it.  Gradually  the  more  en- 
terprising and  ambitious  would  emigrate  to  some  new  territory, 
and  found  a  community  of  their  own,  like  the  Mormons.  The 
less  enterprising  would  stay  here,  and  finally  die  out." 

"  Why  die  out  ?" 

"Because   they    cannot     compete    with   the    white    man.'^ 

Remove      the    odium    attached     to     white    labor — abolishing 

slavery   will  do  it — and  you  would  call    out  the  energies    of 

the  poor  whites.     One  of  them  would  earn  a  dollar,  where  a 

negro  would   earn  Mty  cents.     The    consequence    would    be, 

*  This  is  a  new  view  for  a  Southeru  man.  The  slaveocracy  has  always 
insisted  that  white  labor  cannot  compete  with  black,  in  a  hot  climate. 
Observation  has  satisfied  me  that  the  contrary  is  true.  The  severest 
work  at  the  South,  ditching  and  clearing  swamp  lands,  has  always  been 
done  by  whites. 


VIEWS    OF    SOUTHERN    MEN.  221 

poverty  and  starvation  for  tlie  negroes ;  and  those  that  stayed 
here  would  in  time  die  out." 

*'  Some  of  our  wisest  statesmen  advocate  bhick-swffrage  as  a 
means  of  injuring  a  Union  strength  at  the  South.  What  do 
you  think  of  it  T 

"That  it  would  not  be  a  strength,  but  a  weakness.  The 
black  are  ignorant,  docile,  and  accustomed  to  being  led.  Their 
votes  would  be  controlled  by  a  few  demagogues,  and  all  over 
the  South,  you  would  have  the  state  of  things  you  now  see  in 

New  York  city." 

Another  of  these  gentlemen — Mr,  Bosson,  of  White  County, 
who  before  the  war  was  largely  identified  with  the  railway 
interests  of  the  State,  and  a  prominent  actor  m  its  politics,  g-ave 
me  so  interesting  an  account  of  the  rise  of  the  secession  move- 
ment in  Tennessee,  that  1  am  tempted  to  repeat  it.  His  views 
of  the  real  feeling  of  the  masses,  and  of  what  should  be  done 
with  them  and  their  leaders,  are  entitled  to  great  respect,  for 
he  is  largely  experienced  in  public  affairs,  and  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  all  classes  of  the  Southern  people. 

"During  the  Presidential  canvass  of  1860,"  he  said,  "I 
clearly  saw  that  the  purpose  of  the  Secessionists  was  to  pre- 
cipitate the  South  into  rebellion.  I  communicated  my  im- 
pressions to  our  Bell  and  Everett  elector,  and  advised  him  to 
so  conduct  the  discussion  as  to  arouse  the  people  to  the  coming 
issue.  The  mouth  of  November  came,  and  with  it  the  action 
of  the  South  Carolina  Legislature,  initiating  the  Rebellion. 
Our  legislature  was  then  in  session,  and  under  the  guidance  of 
Governor  Harris,  and  other  leading  advocates  of  Southern 
rights,  its  proceedings  assumed  a  direction  that  tended  to 
strengthen  the  purpose  of  the  Secessionists.    When  I  perceived 


222  DOWX    UH   TENNESSEE. 

this,  with  a  view  to  awaken  the  people,  and  prepare  them  fur 
the  great  issue,  I  inaiigiirateJ  a  series  of  meetings  in  the 
counties  along  the  mountains.  They  were  largely  attended, 
and  the  people  seemed  unanimous  for  the  Union. 

''On  the  third  of  January,  1861,  the  legislature  reported  and 
passed  a  resolution  authorizing  a  vote  to  be  taken  in  the 
month  of  February  following.  The  issue  :  '  For  a  Convention 
or  against  it,'  and,  '  For  delegates  to  the  Convention.' 

"  The  election  was  held,  and  resulted,  throughout  the  State,  in 
a  large  majority  against  a  convention,  and  a  still  larger  major- 
ity— 65,000 — for  the  Union  candidates  to  the  convention. 
In  the  county  of  'White — where  I  resided — out  of  sixteen 
hundred  votes,  the  secessionists  polled  only  a  hundred  and 
twenty-nine;  and  there,  Judge  Gardenhire  and  Colonel  Colnis, 
both  popular  speakers,  took  the  '  stump,'  and  spoke  for  Sep- 
aration;  and  hand-bills  and  circulars,  breathing  the  bad  spirit 
of  secession,  were  widely  scattered.  The  people  were  rejoiced 
at  the  result,  and  when  I  announced  the  vote  at  our  precinct, 
they  unanimously  resolved  never  to  support  a  man  for  any 
civil  office  who  that  day  had  voted  for  a  disunion  candidate. 
The  Secessionists  were  rebuked,  and,  receding  from  the  high 
ground  they  had  taken,  proposed  '  Neutrality'  as  the  true 
policy. 

''Fort  Sumter  surrendered,  and  the  call  for  seventy-five 
thousand  men  gave  encouragement  to  the  leading  disunionists. 
They  at  once  sounded  the  alarm  that  the  Government  meant  to 
coerce  the  South.  The  Legislature  was  immediately  convened, 
and  on  the  recommendation  of  Governor  Harris,  it  resolved  to 
place  the  forces  of  the  State  on  a  war  footing,  authorized 
the   raising  of  volunteers  for  State   defence,  and  made  large 


VIKWS    OF    SOUTHERN    MEN.  •  223 

appropriations  for  that  purpose.  It  also  matured  a  plan,  and 
passed  a  law  for  an  election  in  the  following  June,  to  vote 
Separation  or  no  Separation,'  '  liepreseutation  or  no  Repre- 
sentation.' 

"  Then,  all  over  the  State,  allured  by  the  novelty  of  the  enter- 
prise, the  young  men  responded  to  the  heated  declamation  of 
the  secession  speakers,  and  with  fife  and  drum,  the  demagogues 
accomplished  what  they  could  not  have  done  with  argument. 
No  speaker  of  loyal  proclivities  was  allowed  to  participate  in 
the  discussions.  At  eacli  meeting  squads  of  armed  volun- 
teers,with  drums  beating  and  tiags  flying,  escorted  the  speakers 
and  overawed  the  loyal  voters. 

*'  Election  day — the  8th  of  June — arrived,  and  threats  were 
widely  made  Diat  no  black  republican  would  be  permitted  to 
approach  the  polls.  I  regarded  the  action  of  the  Legislature 
as  contrary  to  the  Constitution,  but  I  resolved  to  vote.  On  the 
morning  of  the  election,  jvith  four  gentlemen  who  thought  as 
I  did,  I  went  to  the  precinct.  Soldiers  were  within  and 
around  the  building,  and  no  Union  man  had  dared  to  enter; 
but  we  quietly  elbowed  our  way  through  the  crowd,  wrote, our 
ballots  in  the  sight  of  the  multitude,  and  gave  our  votes  to  the 
officer.  A  profound  silence  prevailed  as  our  votes  were  read, 
and  when  we  turned  and  looked  on  the  secession  crew,  not  a 
word  was  spoken,  not  a  gesture  made.  They  were  cowed  by 
five  honest  men  !  On  my  return,  the  meeting  with  my  wife 
and  children  was  an  affecting  one.  They  had  not  expected  to 
see  me  again  alive. 

"  The  vote  in  the  State  at  the  February  election  was  155,000, 
and  the  Union  majority  65,000.  In  June,  the  total  vote  was 
only  115,000,  and  the  separation  and   representation  majority 


224  DOWN   IN    TENNESSEE. 

about  3G,000.  The  vote  fell  short  of  the  vote  in  February 
40,000. 

"  Timidity  overcame  loyal  men,  and  those  disposed  to  be  loyal, 
and  they  stayed  at  home  ;  besides,  all  were  told  that  if  they  sup- 
ported *  Xo  Separation,'  they  would  vote  a  halter  to  the  necks 
of  their  own  and  their  neighbors'  sons,  who  had  volunteered. 
Could  we  have  had  free  speech,  we  might  have  rallied  the 
moral  strength  of  the  loyal,  and  defeated  *  Separation ;'  but 
our  leaders  had  deserted  tlie  Union  :  Brown,  Bell,  Ewing, 
and  others  were  either  committed  to  the  rebel  enterprise,  or 
alarmed  into  acquiescence  by  th'e  merely  apparent  popularity 
of  the  secession  movement.  The  people  did  not  want  separ- 
ation. They  were  content  with  their  political  condition  ;  but, 
abandoned  by  their  leaders,  appealed  to  by  a  variety  of  bad  in- 
fluences, and  surrounded  by  an  armed  mob — headed  by  the 
Governor  of  the  State — they  yielded  to  the  sweeping  storm. 
Wherever  there  was  free  discussion,  the  Union  was  sustained. 
In  Bedford  County,  where  Colonels  Wisner  and  Cooper  boldly 
discussed  the  question,  the  people  voted  against  separation. 
And  so  it  was  in  that  portion  of  Smilb  County  which  was 
canvassed  by  Dr.  Gordon  and  W.  B.  Stokes  ;  and  so,  if  we 
could  have  had  free  speech,  would  it  have  been  all  over  the 
State.     The  action  of  East  Tennessee  proves  this. 

"The  first  Wednesday  in  August  was  our  Gubernatorial 
election.  The  aggregate  vote  then  was  116,000 — Harris  beat- 
ing Polk  33,000,  and  the  ballots  at  this  election  fell  short  of 
February,  39,000  votes. 

"  Then  I  saw  the  storm  that  was  coming,  and  remained  at  my 
home  in  White  County,  to  gather  up  my  scattered  means,  and 
prepare  for  the  inevitable  and  terrible  future.     General  Buell 


VIEUS    OF   SOU'rnEKN    MEN.  225 

reached  Nashville  in  May,  18G2.  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  it  I 
passed  tlic  rebel  pickets  in  the  nipjht,  to  look  once  more  on  the 
glorious  fiao;  of  my  country.  I  stayed  at  Nashville  till  Buell 
advanced  to  the  Tennessee  River,  and  then  returned  home,  de- 
fying the  threats  of  my  rebel  neighbors.  In  July,  Forrest 
encamped  on  my  plantation,  and  there  planned  the  capture  of 
Murfreesboro.  He  returned  tliere  with  his  prisoners  and  plun- 
der, cannons,  guns,  horses  and  mules,  and  left  his  sick  at 
my  house.  I  was  known  to  him  and  his  officers  as  a  Union 
man,  but  they  treated  me  with  respect.  I  showed  •  them  the 
commission  of  my  father,  signed  by  John  Hancock,  and  they 
admitted  I  could  not  be  false  to  his  principles.  I  found  many 
Union  men  in  the  rebel  regiments.  They  would  come  to  me 
and  say  they  loved  me,  because  I  dared  to  stand  up  for  the  old 
flag. 

*' Forrest  took  my  stoclc,  corn,  hay,  and  oats,  and  made  requi- 
sition on  me  for  bread  and  meat,  offering  pay  in  Confederate 
money.  I  refused  to  take  it,  telling  him  it  was  tainted  with 
treason.  I  then  became  the  object  of  peisecntion.  My  letters 
had  been  opened  and  examined  long  before;  but  then  I  was 
waited  on  by  a  s^lf-constituted  committee,  who  told  me  they 
were  my  friends,  and  used  many  arguments  to  make  me  a  rebel. 
The  South,  they  said,  was  sure  to  come  gloriously  out  of  the 
contest,  when  Tennessee  and  the  border  States  would  be 
the  New  England  of  the  Confederacy,  and  my  large  water- 
power  would  become  immensely  valuable.  I  answered  that 
my  loyalty  was^not  in  the  market,  and  consequently  could  not 
be  bought.  This  exasperated  them,  and  they  said  I  must  im- 
mediately leave  the  county — that  if  I  went  at  once,  no  personal 
harm  should  come  to  me.     I  replied,  that  I  shon.^»  .ljvo  when 


226  DOWN   m   TENNESSEE. 

convenient — not  before  ;  that  the  property  about  me  was  my 
own — earned  by  my  own  industry  ;  but  I  would  abandon  it  ail 
ratlier  than  abandon  the  Union.  Then  they  told  rae  that  they 
would  not  be  responsible  for  my  personal  safety,  and  left — I 
telling  them,  as  they  went  away,  that  though  my  hair  was 
gray,  I  could  defend  myself.* 

"Rebel  soldiers,  in  citizens'  clothes,  then  waylaid  and  at- 
tempted to  shoot  me,  and,  at  last,  yielding  to  the  entreaties  of 
my  wife,  I  fled  at  night,  and  joined  our  good  General  (Thomas, 
who  Avas  then  present)  at  McMinnville.  I  went  w^ith  him  to 
Nashville,  and  remained  there  till  after  the  battle  of  Stone 
River,  when  I  joined  him  again  at  Murfreesboro.  My  wife 
said  to  me,  when  I  left  her:  *  I  have  nothing  to  give  to  the 
Union  but  you.  I  give  you,  and  God  will  accept  the  sacrifice' 
(and  h^re  the  cool,  collected  man  paused,  and  while  every 
one  was  silent,  wept).  She  and  the  children  are  still 
within  the  Rebel  lines.  My  plantation  and  mills  are  occupied 
by  rebel  soldiers,  and  I  have  turned  my  back  upon  a  home 
that,  before  the  rebellion,  was  one  of  peace  and  plenty — and  I 
say  to  you.  Sir,  the  rebels  are  more  wicked,  more  malicious, 
and  more  dangerous  than  any  foreign  enemy  could  be.  We 
must  exterminate  the  leaders  wholly.  The  poor,  simple  people 
have  been  misled :  and,  mortified  and  humiliated,  they  would, 
the  most  of  them,  now  come  back  to  their  allegiance,  and  be- 
come again  good  citizens.  We  must  deal  with  them  gently, 
but  the  leaders — every  man  who  has  taken  a  prominent  part  in 
promoting  the  rebellion — must  be  expatriated — placed  where  he 

*  This  is  the  language  of  every  Southern  Union  man.  If  the  reader 
would  have  his  Unionism  invigorated,  he  should  make  the  acquaintance 
of  some  <  -  ...V.-3  men. 


VIEWS    OF    SOUTUEKX   MEN.  227 

can  no  longer  deceive  the  people.  The  pfo/j/e  of  Tennessee 
never  desired  the  destruction  of  the  National  Government. 
They  did  not  appr'^-iate  its  blessings  till  they  lost  them  ;  but 
now,  in  mortification  and  astonishment,  they  have  awakened  to 
its  blessings,  and  see  the  ruin  they  have  caused.  Remove  the 
leaders,  and  the  masses  uill  joyfully  return  to  obedience.  I 
hold  the  perpetuation  of  the  Union  above  all  other  considera- 
tions. I  have  sacrificed  every  thing  for  it,  and  I  have  no  ill-will 
against  those  who  would  destroy  it,  but  I  counsel  the  removal 
of  every  impediment  that  stands  in  the  way  of  re-establishing  it3 
power  and  authority.  It  cannot  be  expected  that  all  the 
Union  men  in  the  slave  States  will  approve  of  the  destruction 
of  slavery — but  the  number  who  will  not  is  small.  It  must  be 
destroyed. 

'^  /  say,  if  slavery,  property,  or  persons  stand  in  the  way  of 
restoring  the  Union,  remove  them  all.  Save  the  life  of  the 
Nation.     Preserve  that,  whatever  else  is  lost. 

"  To  a  careful  observer,  who  has  resided  long  in  the  South, 
the  truth  is  apparent  that  slavery  has  moulded  all  its  manners, 
customs,  and  interests,  its  social,  moral,  and  religious  institutions. 
Our  people  are  not  a  reading  people ;  few  books  or  newspapers 
are  seen  among  them,  and  their  educational  interests  have  been 
shamefully  neglected ;  therefore,  the  non-slavehoMers  have 
yielded  a  ready  obedience  to  the  slaveholders,  who  have  con- 
trolled all  legislative  action.  They  have  controlled  every  thing, 
and  therefore  we  must  crush  them.  Crush  them  as  well  as 
slavery,  for  until  we  do  that,  we  can  have  no  lasting  peace." 

These  are  the  words  of  a  loyal  Southerner.  I  have  met 
many  of  them,  but  I  never  met  one  who  did  not  feel  and  talk 
as  he  did.     Thei/  advocate  no  halfway  measures :  they  would 


228  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

strike  at  the  root  of  the  tree.  They  know  that  this  is  a  life  and 
death  struggle  between  two  great  principles ;  between  Democra- 
cy and  Aristocracy  ;  between  a  Republic  and  a  Despotism  ;  and 
that  one  or  the  other  must  perish.  Would  to  God  that  the 
loyal  men  of  the  North  realized  this  as  they  do.  If  they  did, 
Copperheads  and  peace-men  would  now  be  things  of  history. 


A    Pr.OJECTED    LNSURUECTI<.)N.  229 


CHAPTER  XVITI. 

A    PROJECTED    INSURRECTION. 

I  PASSED,  as  I  have  said,  several  weets  at  Murfreesboro,  and 
I  could  fill  a  volume  with  what  I  saw  and  heard,  but  the  fear 
of  compromising  public  interests  holds  my  pen.  Some  day, 
when  "  this  cruel  war  is  over,"  I  may  be  at  liberty  to  write 
what  I  know.  Then,  if  not  before,  the  American  people 
will  say  to  Rosecrans :  "  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant." 

But  now,  when  the  rebels  are   raising  the  black  flag,  and 
butchering  our  troops,  blagk  and   white,  in  a  spirit  unknown 
To  even  savage  warfare,  there   is   one   thing  which  should  be 
told. 

One  day,  as  I  was  sitting  alone  with  Rosecrans,  an  aide 
handed  him  a  letter.  He  opened  it,  ceased  doing  half  a  dozen 
other  things,  and  became  at  once  absorbed  in  its  contents. 
He  re-read  it,  and  then,  handing  it  to  me,  said  :  "Read  that. 
Tell  me  what  you  think  of  it."  I  read  it.  Its  outside  indi- 
cated it  had  come  from  "  over  Jordan,"  jmd  had  "  a  hard  road  to 
travel,"  but  its  inside  startled  me.  It  was  written  in  a  round, 
unpractised  hand,  and  though  badly  spelled,  showed  its  author 
familiar  with  good  Southern  English.  Its  date  was  May  18th, 
18G:"5,  and  it  began  thus: 

"General: — Apian  has  been  adopted  for  a  simultaneous 
movement  or  rising  to  sever  the  rebel  comnrmications  through- 


2^0  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

out  the  whole  South,  which  is  now  disclosed  to  some  general 
in  each  military  department  in  the  Secesh  States,  in  order  that 
they  may  act  in  concert,  and  thus  insure  us  success. 

"  The  plan  is  for  tlie  blacks  to  make  a  concerted  and  simul- 
taneous rising,  on  the  night  of  the  first  of  August  next,  over 
the  whole  States  in  rebellion.  To  arm  themselves  with  any  and 
every  kind  of  weapon  that  may  come  to  hand,  and  commence 
operations  by  burning  all  railroad  and  county  bridges,  tear- 
ing up  all  railroad  tracks,  and  cutting  and  destroying  telegraph 
wires, — and  when  this  is  done  take  to  the  woods,  the  swamps, 
or  the  mountains,  whence  they  may  emerge,  as  occasions  may 
offer,  for  provisions  or  for  further  depredations.  No  blood  is 
to  be  shed  except  in  self-defence. 

"  The  corn  will  be  in  roasting  ear  about  the  first  of  xVugust, 
and  upon  this,  and  by  foraging  on  the  farms  at  night,  we  can 
subsist.  Concerted  movement  at  th^  time  named  would  be  suc- 
cessful, and  the  rebellion  be  brought  suddenly  to  an  end." 

The  letter  went  on  with  some  details  which  I  cannot  repeat, 
and  ended  thus : 

"  The  plan  will  be  simultaneous  over  the  whole  South,  and 
yet  few  of  all  engaged  will  kno'w  its  whol^  extent.  Please 
write  '1'  and  'approved,'  and  send  by  the  bearer,  that  we 
mav  know  you  are  with  us. 

"  Be  assured,  General,  that  a  copy  of  this  letter  has  been  sent 
to  every  military  department  in  the  rebel  States,  that  the  time 
of  the  movement  may  thus  be  general  over  the  entire  South." 

I  was  re-readinoj  the  letter  when  the  General  ao^tiin  said : 
"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"It  would  end  the  rebellion.  It  taps  the  great  negro  organ- 
ization, of  which    I   speak    in   '  Among  the    Pines,'  and,   co- 


A    PROJECTED    INSUEIIECTION.  23\. 

operated  with  by  our  forces,  would  certainly  succeed,  but — the 
South  would  run  ^Yith  blood." 

"  Innocent  blood  !     Women  and  chiklren  !" 

"  Yes,  women  and  children.  If  you  let  the  blaclvs  loose, 
they  will  rush  into  carnage  lite  horses  into  a  burning  barn. 
St.  Dontingo  will  be  multiplied  by  a  million." 

"  But  he  says  no  blood  is  to  be  shed  except  in  self-defence." 

"  IJe  says  so,  and  the  leaders  may  mean  so,  but  they  cannot 
restrain  the  rabble.  Every  slave  has  some  real  or  fancied 
wrong,  and  he  would  take  such  a  time  to  avenge  it." 

"  Well,  I  must  talk  with  Garfield.     Come,  go  with  me." 

We  crossed  the  street  to  Garfield's  lodgings,  and  found  him 
bolstered  up  in  bed,  quite  sick  of  a  fever.  The  General  sat 
down  at  the  foot  of  his  bed,  and  handed  him  the  letter.  Garfield 
read  it  over  carefully,  and  then  laying  it  down,  said  : 

"  It  will  never  do.  General.  We  don't  want  to  whip  by  such 
means.  If  the  slaves,  of  their  own  accord,  rise  and  assert  their 
original  right  to  themselves,  that  will  be  their  own  afi'air;  but 
we  can  have  no  complicity  with  them  without  outraging  the 
moral  sense  of  the  civilized  world." 

*'  I  knew  you'd  say  so  ;  but  he  speaks  of  other  department 
commanders — may  they  not  come  into  it?" 

"  Yes,  they  may,  and  that  should  be  looked  to.  Send  this 
letter  to ,  and  let  him  head  off  '  the  movement.'  " 

It  was  not  thought  prudent  to  intrust  the  letter  to  the 
mails;  nor  with  the  railway,  infested  with  guerillas,  was  it  a  safe 
document  to  carry  about  the  person.  A  short  shrift  and  a  long 
rope  might  have  been  the  consequence  of  its  being  found  on 
a  traveller.  So,  ripping  open  the  top  of  my  boot,  I  stowed  it 
snugly    away    in    the    lining,    and    took     it    North.        On 


232  DOWX    IN    TEXXESSEE. 

the  4th  of  June  followinci-,  Garfield  wrote  me  that  he  had  jnat 
heard  from  the  writer  of  the  letter ;  that  five  out  of  our  nine 
department  commanders  had  come  into  the  project,  and,  sub- 
sequently, that  another  general  had  also  promised  it  his  sup- 
port. 

But  I  can  say  no  more.  x\ll  the  world  knows  that  Ae  insur- 
rection did  not  take  place.  The  outbreaks  in  September, 
among  the  blacks  of  Georgia  and  Alabama,  were  only  parts 
of  the  plan,  the  work  of  subordinate  leaders,  who,  maddened 
at  the  miscarriage  of  the  grand  scheme,  determined  to  carry  out 
their  own  share  of  the  programme  at  all  hazards.  It  was  a 
gigantic  project,  and  the  trains  were  all  laid,  the  matches  all 
lighted,  and  two  centuries  of  cruel  wrong  were  about  to  be 
avenged  in  a  night,  when  a  white  man  said  to  the  negro :  "  You 
will  slaughter  friends  and  enemies.  You  will  wade  knee  deep 
in  innocent  blood ;  God  cannot  be  with  vou  in  midniorht 
massacre  I"  A  white  man  said  that,  and  the  uplifted  torch  fell 
from  the  negro's  hand;  and  saying  :  "I  will  'bide  my  time;  T 
will  leave  vengeance  to  God,"  he  went  back  to  his  toil  and  his 
stripes. 

The  time  has  not  come  to  write  the  history  of  this,  and  I 
have  said  what  I  have,  only  to  show  that  while  Southern  men_ 
w'ore  starving  our  prisoners,  butchering  our  wounded,  and  dese- 
crating our  dead,  we  were  supplicating  the  destroying  angel  to 
pass  over  their  homes,  and  save  their  wives  and  little  ones  from 
a  swift  destruction.  In  the  day  when  "  He  maketh  inquisition 
for  blood,"  on  whose  garments,  my  Southern  brother,  think  you, 
will  He  find  the  stain  ? 

When  I  parted  with  Rosecrans,  he  took  my  hand  and  said 
to  me:  "  Good-by,  my  friend.      Remember  that  those  who  do 


COLONEL   JAMES    F.    JAQUE3S.  233 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


COLONEL    JAMES    F.    JAQUESS. 


One  morning,  not  many  days  after  the  events  recorded  in  the 
last  chapter,  General  Rosecrans  handed  me  anotlier  letter,  say- 
ing, as  he  did  so,  "  Here  is  an  application  from  one  of  my 
officers  for  a  furlough.  It  explains  itself.  I  have  to  be  at  the 
front  all  day,  and  I  wish  you  would  stay  and  see  him.  If  you 
think  well  of  it,  I  will  telegraph  the  Department  for  the  fur- 
lough. The  Colonel  was  a  prominent  member  of  the  Western 
Methodist  Church,  and,  though  a  clergyman,  is  one  of  my  best 
and  bravest  officers.     You  will  be  glad  of  his  acquaintance." 

I  cheerfully  assented  to  the  request,  and  an  orderly  was  at 
once  dispatched  to  his  camp  for  the  officer.  Meanwhile,  I  read 
the  application.     It  was  as  follows : 

"Head-Quarters,  73d  Eegimext  Illinois  Infantry, 
Camp  near  Murfreesboro,  19th  May,  1863. 

"General  : — I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  lay  before  you  the 
following  facts,  considerations,  and  proposition  ; 

"  Situated  as  we  are,  it  is  no  matter  of  astonishment  that  the 
great  eye  of  the  world  is  intently  fixed  upon  us.  The  truth  is, 
we  are  intrusted  with  the  dearest  interests  of  humanity,  with 
the  solution  of  the  grandest  problem  that  ever  inspired  the 
hopes  or  engaged  the  attention  of  man.  It  is  the  problem  of 
his  capacity  for  self-government.  And,  if  we  fail,  which  we 
shall  do  most  signally  if  we   do  not  suppress  this  rebellion, 


234:  .  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

man's   emanci|)atioii  from  tyranny  and  oppression,  and  human 
liberty  and  self-government,  are  failures. 

'*  The  question  that  Heaven  has  called  us  to  decide  in  blood, 
with  the  weapons  of  war,  and  amid  the  shuighter  of  the  battle- 
field, is  not  one  of  a  political  character  only.  It  is  not  simply 
a  question  of  latitude  and  longitude  ;  it  is,  whether  we  are  a 
Christian  or  a  heathen  people. 

"  On  both  sides  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  we  claim  to  be 
Christian  men.  We  speak  the  same  language,  read  the  same 
Bible,  and  worship  God  with  the  same  forms  and  ceremonies. 
We  appoint  days  of  fasting  and  prayer,  and  observe  them  with 
a  zeal  worthy  of  a  Christian  people,  and,  independently  of 
man's  design,  these  appointments  often  fall  on  the  same  days, 
North  and  South.  .  Resolving"  to  'trust  in  God,  but  keep  our 
powder  dry,'  we  have  risen  up  from  our  devotions,  grasped 
again  the  weapons  of  death,  and  rushed  into  the  thickest  of  the 
fight,  without  stopping  to  reflect  that  God  has  other  means  than 
the  sword  to  subdue  his  enemies. 

"  It  is  well  known,  that  before  the  Southern  States  seceded, 
the  Methodist  Church  in  the  United  States  was  separated  on 
the  very  questions  which  have  since  divided  the  nation.  It  is- 
also  known  that  '  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,'  was 
a  leading  element  in  the  rebellion,  and  has  been  a  prominent 
power  in  the  prosecution  of  the  war. 

"  A  considerable  part  of  the  territory  occupied  by  '  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,'  at  the  time  of  the  separa-. 
tion,  and  up  to  a  recent  date,  is  now  in  possession  of  our  armies. 
This  has  brought  a  large  number  of  the  ministers  and  people  of 
that  communion  within  our  lines. .  Some  of  these  persons  were 
prominent  in  the   movement  that  separated  the  Church,  and 


COLONEL    JA>[KS    F.    JAQUESS.  235 

were  most  bittei  and  iincoiinjroiuising  on  the  questions  of  differ- 
ence. 

"  From  tjiese  persons  I  have  learned  personally  the  following 
facts,  viz.  :  That  they  consider  the  rubellion  has  destroyed  the 
'  Methodist  Church,  South ;'  that  it  has  virtually  abolished 
slavery,  and  (obliterated  the  other  prominent  questions  of  diller- 
ence ;  that  they  are  sincerely  desirous  of  returning  to  the  *  Old 
Church  ;'  and  that  their  brethren  within  the  rebel  lines  are  most 
heartily  tired  of  the  rebellion,  and  most  ardently  desire  peace  and 
the  privilege  of  returningto  their  allegiance  to  Church  and  State, 
and  will  do  so  whenever  they  are  assured  of  amnesty  for  the  past. 

"  My  attention  has  been  called  to  these  facts,  and  to  others  of  a 
like  character,  frequently  of  late ;  and  from  these  considerations 
— though  not  from  these  only,  but  because  God  has  laid  the 
duty  upon  me — I  would  submit  to  the  proper  authorities  the 
following  proposition,  viz.  :  To  r/o  into  the  Southern  Confederacy^ 
and  return  within  ninety  days,  with  proposals  of  peace  that 
will  he  acceptable  to  our  Government. 

"  I  shall  propose  no  compromise  with  traitors,  but  their  im- 
mediate return  to  their  allegiance  to  God  and  their  country.  It 
is  no  part  of  my  business  to  discuss  the  probability  or  the  pos- 
sibility of  my  accomplishing  this  work.  I  propose  to  do  it  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  to  leave  results  with  Ilim. 

"  If  He  puts  it  into  the  hearts  of  my  superiors  to  allow  me 
to  go,  I  shall  be  thankful ;  if  not,  I  have  discharged  my  duty. 
"  Your  obedient  servant, 
"(Signed)  .James  F.  Jaquess, 

"  Col.  Comd'g  73  J  Reg't  III.  Infty. 
"  To  Brig.-General  Garfield,  Chief  of  Staffs 

"  Department  of  the  Cumberland." 


236  DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE. 

A  little  more  than  an  hour  after  the  departure  of  the  orderly, 
an  erect,  spare  man,  in  the  undress  uniform  of  a  colonel  of 
infantry,  entered  the  inner  room  of  the  GkineraFs  quarters,  where 
[  was  seated,  lie  seemed  rather  more  than  forty,  and  was  a 
little  above  the  medium  height,  with  gray  hair  and  beard,  a 
high,  broad,  open  forehead,  and  a  thin,  marked  face,  expressing 
great  earnestness,  strength,  and  benignity  of  character.  lie 
came  directly  up  to  me,  and,  bowing  rather  stiffly,  said : 

"Is  this  Mr.  Kirke?" 

"  That  is  a  name  I  sometimes  go  by.  You  are  Colonel  Ja- 
quess.  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  and  I  took  his  hand  very 
cordially. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  replied,  taking  my  hand, 
and  the  stiffness  disappearing  from  his  manner ;  *'  I  feel  that  I 
know  you.  My  little  boy,  only  this  morning,  was  speaking  of 
you.  We  were  riding  through  a  piece  of  woods,  when  he  said 
to  me  :  '  Father,  don't  this  remind  you  of  "Among  the  Pines  ?"  ' 
He  has  the  story  all  by  heart." 

Was  not  that  fame  ?  To  be  talked  of  by  a  Western  boy  in 
the  wilds  of  Tennessee !  Reader,  I  have  my  "  weaknesses,"  as 
well  as  yourself.  One  of  them  was  touched  then — I  confess  it. 
The  Colonel  must  have  observed  it,  when  I  replied  : 

"  You  gratify  me.  And  you've  brought  your  little  boy  out 
here  to  see  the  South  as  it  is  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  see  the  reality  of  slavery.  I  want  him  to  hate  it 
as  I  do.  But  the  General  has  sent  me  word  he  has  referred  my 
application  to  you." 

"He  has  asked  me  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  and  you 
know  lie  is  very  busy." 

He   then  explained   at  some  length,  the  objects  he  had  in 


COLONEL    JAMKS    F.    JAQUESS.  237 

view  in  his  proposed  visit  among  tlve  Rebels.  He  had  been,  it 
appeared,  for  many  years  a  prominent  clergyman  of  the  Western 
Methodist  Church,  and  in  friendly  and  familiar  intercourse  with 
the  leading  divines  of  that  communion  in  the  South.  He  was 
a  member  of  the  Nashville  Convention,  which  divided  that 
denomination  into  the  "Church  North"  and  the  "Church 
South,"  and  there  did  all  in  his  power  to  defeat  that  unfortu- 
nate measure,  which,  undoubtedlv,  was  the  enterinrr-wedcfe  that 
rent  the  Union.  On  the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  he  resigned 
the  Presidency  of  Quincy  College — leaving  home,  ease,  and 
honors — to  accept  the  chaplaincy  of  the  Sixth  Illinois  Cavalry. 
After  the  battle  of  Pittsburg  Landing,  for  brilliant  services  in 
that  engagement — this  is  not  his  own  account  of  himself — he 
was  solicited  by  Governor  Yates  to  raise  and  take  command  of 
a  regiment.  After  repeated  and  urgent  entreaty  from  the  Gov- 
ernor, he  consented  to  do  so,  and  the  result  was,  that  within 
three  weeks  the  Seventy-third  Illinois  Volunteers,  known  as  the 
*' Preachers'  Regiment" — nearly  every  officer  in  it  being  a  cler- 
gyman— was  in  the  field,  ^yith  this  regiment  he  had  served 
throughout  the  campaigns  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  and 
during  that  service  had  met  many  of  his  most  active  and  zeal- 
ous opponents  in  the  Nashville  Convention.  Without  excep- 
tion, they  all  had  told  him  they  regarded  slavery — the  sole 
cause  of  their  schism — as  virtually  abolished,  and  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  come  back  to  the  Church  and  the  Union.  Throu<rh 
thein  he  had  corresponded  with  a  number  of  leading  divines 
within  the  rebel  lines,  and  they,  too,  had  said  they  desired  to 
return  to  their  allegiance  to  the  Church  and  the  country.  He 
thought  the  Methodist  people  of  the  South  sympathized  in 
this  with  their  leaders,  and  he  added : 


233  DOTVN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  thein — to  offer  tliern  the  olive-branch — to 
tell  them,  in  the  name  of  God  and  the  country,  that  they  will 
be  welcome  back." 

"The  Methodist  element,  I  know,  Colonel,"  I  replied,  "is  a 
strong  element  at  the  South  ;  but  I  fVar  the  peace  part  of  it  is 
not  strong  enough  to  control  the  politicians.  They,  if  I  know 
them,  care  little  about  church  or  country.  They  have  other 
view^  than  submission.  They  mean  to  establish  an  independent 
government,  at  afl  hazards^ 

"  I  don't  know  what  their  views  are.  It  is  not  my  business 
to  ask.  I  fuel  that  God  has  laid  upon  me  tlie  duty  to  go  to 
them,  and  go  I  must,  unless  my  superiors  forbid- it." 

"  But  how  will  you  go  ?  The  Government,  I  feel  sure,  will  give 
you  neither  authority  nor  protection.    How,  then,  will  you  go?" 

"  Openly  ;  in  my  uniform  ;  as  the  messenger  of  God." 

"  I  fear  the  rebels,  like  the  people  of  old,  will  not  recognize  you 
as  the  Lord's  messenger.     They'll  shoot  or  hang  you  as  a  spy." 

*'  It  is  not  for  me  to  ask  whatthev  will  do  ;  I  have  only  to  2:0." 

"Wfll,  I'll  report  what  you  say  to  the  General,  but  I  must 
be  frank  with  you  :  if  he  asks  my  opinion,  I  shall  advise  him 
not  to  apply  for  the  furlough.  I  have  heard  of  you  before,  and 
your  life,  in  my  judgment,  is  altogether  too  valuable  to  be 
wasted  on  such  an  embassy." 

"That  is  not  for  you  to  judge.  r>ut  I  want  more  than  a  fur- 
lough ;  I  want  an  interview  with  Mr.  Lincoln,  to  learn  the  terms 
on  which  he  will  give  amnesty  to  the  Ptebels.  You  will  say 
this  to  the  General  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and,  as  I  told  you,  advise  him  to  do  nothing  about  it." 

At  this  the  Colonel  laughed,  good-humoredly. 

"What  amuses  you?"  I  asked,  a  litilo  annoyed. 


^  COLONEL    JAMKS    F.    JAQUESS.  239 

"I  was  only  thinking  how  little  we  know  what  wc  will  do- 
Now,  1  shall  not  only  go,  but  yon  will  lielp  mo." 

*'IIow  do  you  know  that?" 

"  You'll  think  ino  superstitious  if  I  tell  you." 

"•  Xot  till  I  hoar  you." 

'*  Well ;  when  I  called  on  General  Garfield,  yesterday,  and 
opened  my  project  to  him,  he  told  me  to  put  it  in  black  and 
•white,  and  he  would  submit  it  to  the  General.  I  went  ba^jk  to 
camp,  and  did  so — wrote  the  letter  you  have  in  your  hand.  I 
had  thought  of  this  for  several  months,  but,  until  I  spr>ke  to 
General  Garfield,  had  said  nothing  to  any  one  about  it.  Tlii» 
morning,  however,  just  after  sunrise,  it  occurred  to  me  to  talk 
it  over  with  my  Chaplain,  who  is  iny  intimate  friend.  Taking 
the  letter  with  me,  1  went  to  his  tent.  Ho  was  just  coming  out 
of  it ;   and  he  said,  as  he  saw  ine  : 

"'Ah,  Colonel,  I  was  about  to  go  and  see  you.  I  had  a 
strange  dream  about  you  last  night.' 

"  '  Did  you  ?     What  was  it  V 

"'I  dreamed  tliat  you  were  in  a  small  room  with  JeiT. 
Davis  and  twoothergentlemen.  I  couldn't  hear  what  was  said,  hut 
you  all  seemed  in  very  earnest  conversation.    AVhatdid  it  mean  V 

"  I  then  told  him  of  my  intention  to  visit  Mr.  Davis,  and  read 
him  my  letter.  AYe  both  thought  it  very  singular.  About  an 
hour  afterwards,  as  we  were  riding  in  the  woods,  my  little  son 
mentioned  your  name.  At  once  it  occurred  to  me  that  you 
were  here — I  did  not  know  you  were — and  here  to  help  me. 
Now,  I  have  no  faith  in  dreams — I  believe  God  has  'sealed  up 
tlic  vision  and  the  prophecy,'  but  the  impression  is  strong  upon 
me — stronger  than  my  reason,  I  cannot  shake  it  off — that  I 
shall  see  Jeff.  Davis,  and  i/oii  will  help  me." 


24:0  DOWN    IX    TENNESSEE. 

*'  Well,  I  7nai/.  As  you  say,  Me  cannot  tell  what  we  may 
do." 

I  kept  my  word  witji  him  ;  that  is,  I  reported  the  interview  to 
General  Rosecrans,  and  recommended  that  he  should  do  noth- 
ing about  it. 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  the  G-eneral. 

"Because  he  could  accomplish  nothing,  and  would  throw  his 
life  away." 

"  I  know,  if  he  talks  peace  to  the  people  the  leaders  will  hang 
him  ;  but  he'll  not  do  that.  He'll  go  to  the  leaders  themselves. 
The  terms  he  will  offer  may  not  be  accepted,  but  it  will 
strengthen  our  moral  position  to  offer  them.  It  will  show  the 
world  that  we  do  not  seek  to  subjugate  the  South.  As  to  his  life 
— he  takes  the  right  view  about  that.  He  considers  it  already 
given  to  the  country.  If  you  had  seen  him  at  Stone  River, 
you'd  think  so.  He  is  a  hero — John  Brown  and  the  Chevalier 
Bayard  rolled  into  one,  and  polished  up  with  common  sense 
and  a  knowledge  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  the  mathematics." 

That  evening  the  General  sent  a  telegram  to  Washington, 
stating  the  Colonel's  objects,  and  asking  for  him  a  four  months' 
furlough,  and  an  interview  with  the  President.^  Answer  came 
in  the  moining,  declining  the  requests,  but  asking  a  fuller 
explanation  of  Colonel  Jaquess's  purposes,  by  mail.  The  mes- 
sagii  was  sent  out  to  the  Colonel's  camp,  and  in  a  few  hours  he 
appeared  at  head-quarters.  I  happened  to  be  with  the  Gen- 
eral at  the  time.  He  was  as  busy  as  usual,  but,  as  Jaquess 
came  in,  looked  up,  and  said : 

"  Well,  Colonel,  you've  got  your  sentence." 

"I  don't  think  so,  General.  I  never  give  up  with  one 
trial." 


COLONEL   JAMES    F.    JAQUE88.  24:1 

"That's  right;  but  what's  to  be  done  now  ?" 

"  Try    again.      Mr.    must   go    to   Washington.      Tve 

known  Mr.  Lincohi  twenty  years,  but  I  raight  write  him  forty 
letters,  and  accomplish  nothing.  Writing  won't  do  it.  Mr. 
must  go." 

This  was  spoken  with  such  inimitable  coolness,  that  I  burst 
into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Yes/'  said  the  General,  also  laughing;  "that's  it.  You 
must  go.  You've  been  talking  of  going  every  day  for  a  week — 
now  you  must  go,  and  take  Washington  on  your  way.  I've 
some  other  business  I  want  attended  to ;  and  you  will  do  it — to 
oblige  me." 

*'  Well,  to  oblige  you,  I  will."  And  thus  so  much  of  the 
Colonel's  presentiments  were  realized.  About  the  rest,  the 
reader  will  learn  before  this  book  is  ended. 

I  was  to  start  the  next  afternoon,  and  in  the  morning  Jaquess 
came  into  town  to  bid  me  good-by.  As  we  parted,  he  took 
my  hand,  and  said  to  me  : 

"  I  know  I  shall  go  on  this  mission,  but  whether  I  shall 
return  or  not,  is  uncertain.  But  if  I  do  not — if  I  go  to  the 
other  side  of  Jordan  before  you,  be  sure  I  shall  be  the  first  man 
to  take  you  by  the  hand  when  you  get  there." 

This  sentence  displays  the  whole  character  of  the  man.  He 
*' walks  by  faith,  not  by  sight."  To  him  the  curtain  which 
hides  the  other  life  from  ours  is  already  lifted — the  two  worlds 
are  already  one. 

A  few  days  thereafter,  with  a  bundle  of  "  dispatches"  in  my 
pocket,  I  landed  in  Washington.     Among  these  "  dispatches" 
was  one,  of  which  the  following  is  a  copy : 
11 


242  DOWN    IN    TENNESSKE. 

"Head-Quarters,  Department  of  the  Cumberland, 
"Mlrfreesboro,  Tenn.,  Miy  21,  1863. 
**ToHi.s  Excellency, 

"The  President  of  the  United  States:' 

"The  Rev.  Dr.  Jaqiiess,  Colonel  commanding  the  73d  Illinois, 
— a  man  of  character, — has  submitted  to  me  a  letter  proposing 
a  personal  mission  to  the  South.  After  maturely  weighing  his 
plan,  and  considering  well  his  character,  I  am  decidedly  of 
opinion  that  the  public  interests  will  be  promoted  by  permitting 
him  to  go  as  he  proposes. 

"I  do  not  anticipate  the  results  that  he  seems  to  expect,  but 
believe  that  a  moral  force  will  be  generated  by  his  mission, 
that  will  more  than  compensate  us  for  his  temporary  absence 
from  his  regiment. 

"  His  letter  is  herein  enclosed,  and  the  bearer  of  this,  Mr. 

,  can  fully  explain  Colonel  Jaqiiess's  plans  and  purposes. 

"Very  respectfully, 
"  W.  S.  RosECB.A'ss,  Major-Genej'al.^^ 

Enclosing  this  and  the  other  papers  in  an  envelope,  I  sent 
them,  with  a  note,  asking  when  I  could  have  a  private  inter- 
view with  the  President,  to  the  White  House. 

"  Come  at  half-past  seven  this  evening,  and  PU  be  glad  to  see 
you,"  was  the  answer. 

I  went  at  the  appointed  time,  and  my  friend,  Mr.  Nicolay, 
said  to  me : 

"Mr.  Lincoln  is  expecting  you,  but,  just  now,  he's  engaged 
with  Reverdy  Johnson.  Take  a  seat  in  my  room,  and  he'll  call 
you  when  he's  ready." 

I  did  as  I  was  bidden,  and  in  about  h;iif  an  hour,  the  homely, 
humane  face,  with  which    everybody   is  familiar,  looked  in  at 


COLONEL   JAMES    F.    ^AQUESB.  243 

the  door,  and  a  kind,  benevolent  voice  said  to  me :  "  Sorry  to 
have  kept  you  waiting.  Come  in.  Do  you  know,  I  can't  talk 
with  you  about  that  Jaqucss  matter  ?" 

"  Why  not.  Sir?"  I  asked,  following  him  into  the  room. 

*'  Because  I  happen  to  be  President  of  the  United  States. 
We  can  make  no  overtures  to  the  Rebels.  If  they  want  peace, 
all  they  have  to  do  is  to  lay  down  their  arms.  But  never  mind 
about  that ;  you've  been  to  Tennessee,  and  I  want  to  see  you. 
So  sit  down,  and  tell  me  all  you  know, — it  won't  take  you 
long." 

It  did  take  me  three  whole  hours ;  and,  while  I  told  it,  I 
took  advantage  of  my  position  as  one  of  the  "  sovereigns,"  to 
find  a  little  fault  with  the  War  Department.  Mr.  Lincoln 
heard  me  patiently,  parrying  ray  thrusts  with  a  smile  or  a 
humorous  story,  and,  when  I  concluded,  said  :  "  Well,  it's  lucky 
that  you're  '  one  of  the  people.'     You  escape  all  this." 

"  I  know  I  do ;  and  that  reminds  me — I  received  a  letter  this 
morning,  which  I  want  to  read  to  you.  It's  from  a  young 
woman  you've  heard  of.  Long  ago  she  gave  herself  to  the 
Lord,  and  that,  you  know,  means  the  country  ;  so,  she's  a  right 
to  speak." 

Then  I  read  the  letter.     It  was  as  follows : 

"  You  write  that  you  are  going  to  Washington,  so,  I  know 
you'll  see  *  Old  Abe.'  Now,  don't  you  find  any  fault  with  him. 
I  know  your  impatient  disposition — I  know  you  think  he  ought 
to  have  done  a  good  deal  more  than  he  has  done.  But,  remem- 
ber, that  he  has  had  an  untried  way,  difficulties  all  about  him, 
conservatives  advising  one  thing,  radicals  another,  and  all 
deceiving  him.  So,  don't  you  find  fault  with  him,  but  bid  him 
*God  speed.'     Tell,  him  that  all  good  men  and  women,  every- 


244  DOW^    m    TENNESSEE. 

where,  are  with  him — that  they  pray  for  him,  and  bless  him 
for  what  he  has  done,  and  will  yet  do.  One  word,  from  a  man 
he  knows  has  nothing  to  ask  for,  may  cheer  him — cheer  him 
more  than  you  know — and  don't  you  fail  to  say  it.  As  you 
love  truth  and  God,  say  it,  for  it  is  true,  and  you  ought  to 
say  it." 

It  would  not  be  true  if  I  said  there  was  "  a  tear  in  his  eye" 
when  I  read  this.  There  was  not.  He  is  not  ''  given  to  weep- 
ing," but  his  voice  had  a  mellower,  softer  tone,  as  he  asked: 

"  Who  is  she  ?" 

I  told  him. 

"Tell  her,"  he  said,  "that  I  thank  her— that  I  hope  God 
will  bless  her." 

That  was  a  year  ago  ;  but  what  that  young  woman  then  said 
might  as  well — might  better — be  said  now  by  every  man  and 
woman  in  the  country. 

As  I  rose  to  go,  he  asked  me ; 

"  When  do  you  go  home  ?" 

*'  In  the  morning." 

"  Can't  you  stay  another  day,  and  come  to  see  me  to-morrow 
evening  ?     I  want  to  think  more  of  that  Jaquess  matter." 

"  Yes,  Sir,  I'll  do  so,"  and  on  the  following  evening  I  called 
on  him  again. 

Grant  had  then  "  watered  his  horse  in  the  Mississippi." 
Vicksburg  was  beleaguered,  but  Pendleton  was  inside  of  it 
with  twenty-five  thousand  men,  and  Johnston  outside  of  it  with 
thirty  thousand.  Grant  had  only  thirty  thousand.  Re-enforce- 
ments had  not  then  reached  him.  Might  he  not  be  crushed 
before  they  arrived  ? 

The  President  was  very  anxious.     He  showed  none  of  his 


COLONEL    JAMES    F.    JAQDE3S.  245 

usual  humor  and  vivacity.  Dispatch  after  dispatch  came  in 
from  the  War  Department,  and  he  opened  them,  glanced  at 
their  signatures,  and  tlien,  laying  them  down  unread,  said  : 
"  Only  from  Hooker ;"  or,  "  Only  from  Burnside ;"  or,  "  Only 
from  Rosecrans.  Nothing  from  Grant  yet !  Why  don't  we 
hear  from  Grant  ?" 

If  the  life  of  his  own  son  had  been  quivering  in  the  balance 
at  Vicksburg,  he  could  not  have  shown  more  anxiety.  I  had 
not  voted  for  him.  I  had  not  admired  or  even  supported  him ; 
but  that  night  I  regretted  that  I  had  not,  for  what  I  saw  satis- 
fied me  that  there  is  not  a  drop  in  Abraham  Lincoln's  veins 
that  does  not  beat  for  his  country. 

It  was  hard  to  get,  him  to  the  subject,  but  at  last  I  did  do  it: 
and  then  he  told  me,  in  a  clear,  direct  way,  the  terms  he  would 
give  the  Rebels.  A  portion  of  these  terms  have  since  been  in- 
cluded in  the  Amnesty  Proclamation  ;  the  rest  I  do  not  feel  at 
liberty  to  make  public.  They  are  all,  however,  embodied  in  a 
few  of  his  words  : 

"  The  country  will  do  every  thing  for  safety — nothing  for  re- 
venge." 

If  Washington  ever  uttered  a  grander,  or  a  nobler  sentence 
than  that,  I  have  not  read  it. 
Finally,  he  said : 

"  You  can  write  what  I  say  to  General  Rosecrans,  and  he  can 
communicate  as  much  of  it  as  he  thmks  best  to  Colonel 
Jaquess ;  but  the  Colonel  must  not  understand  that  he  has  these 
terms  from  me.  We  want  peace,  but  we  can  make  no  over- 
tures to  the  Rebels.  They  already  know  that  the  country 
would  welcome  them  back,  and  treat  them  generously  and 
magnanimously." 


246  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  I  rose  to  go.  As  I  did  so, 
he  said : 

"  Don't  go  yet.  I  shall  stay  here  until  I  get  something  from 
Grant !" 

The  next  morning  I  wrote  to  Rosecrans,  and,  within  ten  days, 
Colonel  Jaqness  started  for  the  South.  At  Baltimore  he  re- 
ported to  General  Schenck,  who  forwarded  him  on  to  Fortress 
Monroe.  Arriving  there  he  explained  his  business  to  General 
Dix,  and  he,  after  much  delay,  allowed  him  to  smuggle  himself 
on  board  a  flag-of-triice  boat  going  to  the  Rebel  lines.  He  was 
in  his  uniform,  but  the  Rebel  officer  who  met  our  flag  said  to  him : 

"  Go  where  you  please,  and  stay  as  long  as  you  like." 

Any  one  can  see  the  great  risk  he  ran.  He  had  no  creden- 
tials ;  nothing  to  show  who  he  was,  or  why  he  came ;  and  there 
were  ten  chances  to  one  that  he  would  be  taken  as  a  spy.  But 
what  was  that  to  him  ?  He  was  about  his  Master's  work,  and 
his  trust  in  the  Master,  which  "whoever  runs  may  read"  in 
his  face,  carried  him  safely  through. 

He  went  to  Petersburg,  and  there  they  came  to  him.  As 
Nicodemus  came  to  the  great  Peace-Maker,  so  the  Rebel 
leaders  came  to  him,  by  night.  Disguised,  and  under  false 
names,  they  sought  him  to  ask  the  way  to  peace. 

"Jjay  down  your  arms;  go  back  to  your  allegiance,  and  the 
country  will  deal  kindly  and  generously  by  you,"  he  said  to  all 
of  them. 

From  all  he  had  the  same  answer : 

"  W'e  are  tired  of  the  war.  We  are  willing  to  give  up 
slavery.  We  know  it  is  gone  ;  but  so  long  as  our  Government 
holds  out,  we  must  stand  by  it.  We  cannot  betray  it  and  each 
other." 


COLONEL    JAMKS    F.    JAQUK88.  ^24:7 

And  this  is  noio  the  sentiment  of  the  Southern  people,  and 
of  a  vast  number  of  the  Southern  leaders. 

He  remained  at  Petersburg  several  weeks  and  then  returned 
to  Baltimore.  From  there  he  wrote  to  the  President,  but  re- 
ceived no  answer.  He  waited  there  a  long  time ;  but,  no  an- 
swer coming,  finally  returned  to  his  regiment.  Then  he  wrote  me, 
stating  the  result  of  his  visit,  and  saying  he  wanted  to  go  again, 
with  liberty  to  see  Jeff.  Davis.  [Other  leaders  he  had  seen,  but 
Davis  he  had  not  seen.]  This  letter  came  just  as  I  was  setting 
out  on  a  long  journey ;  and,  naturally  concluding  that  if  he 
had  not  answered  Jaquess,  he  would  not  answer  me,  I  did  not 
write  to  the  President.  Thus  the  affair  rested  till  I  returned 
from  my  journey.  Then  I  went  to  Washington,  and,  calling 
on  Mr.  Lincoln,  asked  him  why  he  had  not  answered  Jaquess. 

"  I  never  received  his  letter,"  was  the  unexpected  reply. 

"Well,  it's  not  too  late.  Those  people  are  ripe  for  peace 
now.  I  know  that  from  many  of  them.  Let  Jaquess  go  again. 
There  is  no  telling  what  he  may  accomplish." 

The  President  turned  about  on  his  chair,  and  on  a  small 
card  wrote  the  following : 

"  To  ivkom  it  may  concern  : 

"The  bearer.  Colonel  James  F.  Jaquess,  Seventy-third 
Illinois,  has  leave  of  absence  until  further  orders. 

"A.  Lincoln." 

In  a  few  weeks  Jaquess  joined  me  in  Baltimore.  Going 
with  him  t'-^  Washington,  I  then  learned  that  unexpected 
obstacles  were  in  the  way  of  his  further  progress.  These  ob- 
stacles could  be  removed  by  my  accompanying  him,  and  that 
and  other  reasons  finally  led  to  our  visitiug  Richmond  together. 


248  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 


CnAPTER   XX. 

WHY    I    WENT    TO    RICHMOND. 

I  HAVE,  in  the  preceding'  chapter,  related  the  fact  of  Colonel 
Jaquess'  first  visit  within  the  Rebel  lines,  and  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  his  setting  out  on  a  second  journey  thither ;  and 
the  reader  may  now  ask  why  I,  a  "  civil"  individual,  not  in  the 
pay  of  Government,  and  having  no  sort  of  influence  in  "  the 
Methodist  Church  South,"  accompanied  him  on  this  second  ex- 
pedition, and,  at  a  season  when  all  the  world  was  rushing  North 
to  the  mountains  and  the  watering-places,  journeyed  South  for 
a  conference  with  the  arch-Rebel,  in  the  hot  and  dangerous 
latitude  of  Virginia. 

I  could  give  half  a  dozen  good  reasons  for  undertaking  such 
a  journey,  and  any  one  of  them  would  prove  that  I  am  a  sensi- 
ble man,  altogether  too  sensible  to  go  on  so  long  a  trip,  in 
the  heat  of  midsummer,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  the  thing ;  but 
I  will  content  myself  with  enumerating  a  smaller  number,  and 
the  reader  may  believe  that  any  one,  or  all  of  them,  had  a 
greater  or  a  less  influence,  or  no  influence  at  all,  in  determining 
my  movements. 

First :  Very  many  honest  people  at  the  North  sincerely  be- 
lieve that  the  revolted  States  will  return  to  the  Union  if  assured 
of  protection  to  their  peculiar  institution.  The  Government 
having  declared  that  no  State  shall  be  readmitted  which  has 
not  first  abolished  slavery,  these  people  hold  it  responsible  for 


^VHY    I    WENT    TO    PaCHMOND.  249 

the  continuance  of  the  war.  It  is,  therefore,  important  to 
know  whether  the  Rebel  States  will,  or  will  not,  return  to  their 
allegiance,  if  allowed  to  retain  Slavery.  Mr.  Jeflferson  Davis 
could,  undoubtedly,  answer  that  question ;  and  that  may  have 
seemed  a  reason  why  I  should  go  to  see  him. 

Second:  On  the  second  of  July  last,  C.  C.  Clay,  of  Alabama; 
J.  P.  Ilolcombe,  of  Virginia;  and  G.  N.  Sanders,  of  nowhere 
in  particular,  appeared  at  Niagara  Falls,  and  publicly  an- 
nounced that  they  were  there  to  confer  with  the  Democratic 
leaders  in  reference  to  the  Chicago  nomination.  Very  soon 
thereafter,  a  few  friends  of  the  Administration  received  intima- 
tions from  those  gentlemen  that  they  were  Commissioners  from 
the  Rebel  Government,  with  authority  to  negotiate  prelimina- 
ries of  peace  on  something  like  the  following  basis,  namely  :  A 
restoration  of  the  Union  as  it  was ;  all  negroes  actually  freed  by 
the  war  to  be  declared  free,  and  all  negroes  not  actually  freed 
by  the  war  to  be  declared  slaves. 

These  overtures  were  not  considered  sincere.  They  seemed 
concocted  to  embarrass  the  Government,  to  throw  upon  it  the 
odium  of  continuing  the  war,  and  thus  to  secure  the  triumph 
of  the  peace-traitors  at  the  November  election.  The  scheme, 
if  well  managed,  threatened  to  be  dangerous,  by  uniting  the 
Peace-men,  the  Copperheads,  and  such  of  the  Republicans  as 
love  peace  better  than  principle,  in  one  opposition,  willing  to 
make  peace  on  terms  inconsistent  with  the  interests  and  safety 
of  the  nation.  It  seemed,  therefore,  important  to  discover — 
wiiat  was  then  in  doubt — whether  the  Rebel  envoys  really  had, 
or  had  not,  any  official  authority. 

Within  fifteen  days  of  the  appearance  of  these  "  Peace  Com- 
missioners," Jeiierson  Davis  had  said  to  an  eminent  Secession 
II* 


250  DOWN  IN   TENNESSEE. 

divine,  who,  late  in  June,  came  through  the  Union  lines  by  the 
Maryland  back-door,  that  he  would  make  peace  on  no  other 
terms  than  a  recognition  of  South-ern  Independence.  (He  might, 
however,  agree  to  two  governments,  bound  together  by  a  league 
offensive  and  defensive — for  all  external  purposes,  one  ;  for  all 
internal  purposes,  two  ;  but  he  would  agree  to  nothing  better.) 

There  was  reason  to  consider  this  information  trustworthy, 
and  to  believe  Mr.  Davis  altogether  ignorant  of  the  doings  of 
his  Niagara  satellites.  If  this  were  true,  and  were  proven  to 
be  true — if  the  great  Rebel  should  reiterate  this  declaration  in 
the  presence  of  a  trustworthy  witness,  at  the  very  time  when 
the  small  Rebels  were  opening  their  Quaker  guns  on  the  coun- 
try— would  not  the  Niagara  negotiators  be  stripped  of  their 
false  colors,  and  their  low  schemes  be  exposed  to  the  scorn  of 
all  honest  men.  North  and  South  ? 

I  may  have  thought  so ;  and,  if  I  did,  that  may  have  seemed 
another  good  reason  why  I  should  go  to  Richmond. 

Third :  And  this,  to  very  many,  may  appear  as  potent  as  any 
of  the  preceding  reasons : — -T  had  in  my  boyhood  a  strange  fancy- 
for  church-belfries  and  liberty-poles.  This  fancy  led  me,  in 
school-vacations,  to  perch  my  small  self  for  hours  on  the  cross- 
beams in  the  old  belfry,  and  to  climb  to  the  very  top  of  the 
tall  pole  which  still  surmounts  the  little  village  green.  In  ray 
youth,  this  feeling  was  simply  a  spirit  of  adventure ;  but  as  I 
grew  older  it  deepened  into  a  reverence  for  what  those  old 
bells  said,  and  a  love  for  the  principle  of  which  that  old  liberty- 
pole  is  now  only  a  crumbling  symbol. 

Had  not  events  shown  that  Jelf.  Davis  had  never  seen  that 
old  liberty-pole,  and  never  heard  the  chimes  which  still  ring 
out   from   that   old   belfrv  ?     Who   knew,  in  these   davs  when 


WHY    I    WENT    TO    RICHMOND.  251 

every  woodsawyer  has  a  "  mission,"  but  /  had  a  mission,  and 
it  was  to  tell  the  Rebel  President  that  Northern  liberty-poles 
still  stand  for  Freedom,  and  that  Northern  church-bells  still 
peal  out,  "  Liberty  throughout  the  land,  to  all  the  inhabitants 
thereotT' 

If  that  was  my  mission,  will  anybody  blame  me  for  fanning 
Mr.  Dasis  with  a  "  blast"  of  cool  Northern  "  wind"  in  this  hot 
weather  ? — and  might  not  that  be  reason  enough  why  I  should 
go  to  Richmond  ? 

But  enough  of  mystification.  The  straightforward  reader 
wants  a  straightforward  reason,  and  he  shall  have  it. 

I  went  to  Richmond  because  I  thought  I  could  render  mate- 
rial aid  to  Colonel  Jaquess,  in  paving  the  way  to  negotiations 
that  might  result  in  peace. 

If  we  should  succeed,  the  consciousness  of  having  served  the 
country  would,  I  thought,  pay  our  expenses.  If  we  should  fail, 
but  return  safely,  we  might  still  serve  the  country  by  making 
public  the  cause  of  our  failure.  If  we  should  fail,  and  «of  return 
safely,  but  be  shot  or  hanged  as  spies, — as  we  might  be,  for  we 
could  have  no  protection  from  our  Government,  and  no  safe- 
conduct  from  the  rebels, — two  lives  would  be  added  to  the 
thousands  already  sacrificed  to  this  rebellion ;  but  they  would 
as  effectually  serve  the  country  as  if  lost  on  the  battle-field. 

These  are  the  reasons,  and  the  only  reasons,  why  I  went  to 
Richmond. 


i52  DOWN    IN   TKNNE8SKE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ON     THE    WAY    TO     RICHMOND. 

Having  decided  on  accompanying  Colonel  Jaquess,  I  pro- 
cured a  pass  to  General  Grant's  head-quarters,  and,  on  a  pleasant 
afternoon  iu  July,  went  with  him  on  board  of  one  of  the  small 
steamers  plying  between  Washington  and  City  Point.  As  we 
stepped  upon  the  gangway,  a  civil  young  gentleman,  in  liaen 
trousers  and  the  undress  coat  of  an  infantry  captain,  said  to 
me  : 

"  Your  pass,  sir." 

I  produced  the  required  paste-board,  and  coolly  putting  it  in 
his  pocket,  he  remarked : 

"  All  right,  sir." 

"  Not  exactly  all  right,  my  dear  fellow.  It  will  be  when  you 
return  me  the  pass." 

'*  But  I'll  see  you  safely  to  the  General's.  This  is  a  kind  I 
don't  often  get,  and  I  want  to  keep  it." 

"  And  I  prefer  you  shouldn't — perhaps  for  that  very  reason. 
So  deliver." 

He  did  ''  deliver,"  but  very  reluctantly.  However,  he  made 
amends  for  the  slight  incivility  by  uncommon  attention  during 
the  passage. 

The  boat  w^vs  crowded  with  passengers — officers  returning 
from  furlough,  recruits  going  to  the  field,  convalescent  veterans 
rejoining  their  regiments,  and  country  clergymen  entering  on 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    KICUMOND.  253 

the  good  work  of  the  Sanitary  and  Chrislian  Commissions— and 
the  trip  was  fruitful  in  incidents  characteristic  of  the  war,  and 
illustrative  of  the  mighty  transition  which  is  regenerating  the 
nation.  But  we  are  going  to  Richmond,  and  the  reader  will 
not  thank  me  if  I  linger  by  the  way. 

It  wanted  several  hours  of  sundown  on  the  following  day, 
when  the  boat  rounded  to  under  the  abrupt  promontory  which 
bears  the  name  of  City  Point.  A  large  flag  was  flying  among 
the  trees  which  crown  the  higher  part  of  the  headland,  and, 
making  our  wify  to  it,  we  asked  for  the  quarters  of  the  Gen- 
cral. 

♦'  Yonder,  in  that  tent.     He  is  sitting  there,  you  see,"  replied 

the  adjutant. 

Without  more  ceremony,  we  passed  down  the  grassy  avenue, 
and  presented  ourselves  before  him.  He  was  seated  on  a  camp 
stool,  smoking  a 'cigar,  and  listening  to  the  reading  of  a  news- 
paper by  General  Rawlins.  A  few  other  oflacers  sat  near,  and 
something  which  had  just  been  read  appeared  to  amuse  tliem 
greatly.  The  General  looked  up  as  we  approached,  and,  as  he 
espied  my  companion,  rose  rather  hastily. 

"  Ah  !  Colonel,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  "  I  am  glad  to 
sec  you.     It's  a  long  time  since  we  met.     Not  since — " 

"Pittsburg  Landing,  I  believe.  General.  I  think  we  met 
there,"  returned  my  companion. 

"Yes,  I  remember.  I  remember  the  work  you  did  there  for 
the  w^oundcd.     When  did  you  leave  Sherman  ?" 

"  About  ten  days  ago.  I  brought  dispatches  from  him  to  the 
AVar  Department." 

"  I  have  heard  from  him  later  than  that.  He  is  doing  splen- 
didly— handling  his  army  most  magnificently." 


254:  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

Meanwhile,  the  Colonel  had  introduced  me  to  the  General, 
and  at  this  break  in  the  conversation  I  said  to  him : 

"  We  want  your  ear,  sir,  privately,  for  a  few  moments." 

"  Certainly ;  walk  in  this  way."  And  rising,  he  led  us  into 
his  sleeping  apartment — a  square  tent,  wiih  a  single  strip  of 
carpet  on  the  ground,  a  low  camp-cot  in  one  corner,  and  a  port- 
able desk,  covered  with  open  papers,-  in  the  other. 

Handing  him,  then,  a  note  I  had  with  me,  I  briefly  explained 
our  wishes. 

"  I  don't  believe  the  rebels  will  receive  you.  They  have  not 
answered  a  flag  for  a  month.  However,  I  will  send  one.  I 
shall  have  to  address  General  Lee.  Shall  I  say  you  want  to 
meet  Judge  Ould  ?"  he  asked,  drawing  his  stool  to  the  desk. 

"  If  you  please,  and  suppose  you  add,  that  if  there  appears  to 
Lee  any  objection  to  Quid's  meeting  us,  you  would  like  to 
have  him  refer  our  request  to  Jeff".  Davis." 

"  ril  do  so,"  and  he  began  the  note.  While  he  was  writing 
it,  I  noted  more  particularly  his  appearance.  He  is  of  about  the 
medium  height,  with  a  large  head,  a  compact  frame,  and  a 
deep,  broad  chest  and  shoulders.  His  hair  is  brown,  his  eyes 
clear,  deep  gray,  and  his  features  regular,  and  of  a  cast  that 
might  be  called  **  Massive,  Grecian."  Though  his  first  meeting 
with  the  Colonel  was  decidedly  cordial,  his  usual  manner  is 
cool  and  undemonstrative;  but  with  this  coolness  is  a  certain 
earnest  simplicity,  that  impresses  one  very  favorably.  In  his 
face  is  the  unyielding  persistency  which  has  won  him  so  many 
battles,  but  there  is  nothing  else  remarkable  about  him.  He 
does  not  at  once  magnetize  a  stranger  with  a  sense  of  his  genius, 
as  does  Rosecrans. 

The  note  finished,  he  read  it  to  us.     "  Will  thatdo  ?"  lie  asked. 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    RICHMOND.  255 

"  Yes,  Sir,  when  can  it  go  oflf  ?" 

"  At  once.  It'll  go  by  boat  to  Point  of  Rocks,  and  from  there 
to  the  Rebel  lines  ;  but,  at  the  earliest,  you'll  not  get  a  reply 
I  efore  to-morrow  night." 

The  conversation  then  took  a  general  turn,  and  in  a  clear, 
simple  way  he  explained  the  military  position,  expressing  the 
opinion  that  the  fall  of  Richmond  and  the  defeat  of  Lee, 
though  they  might  be  delayed,  were  inevitable  events. 

As  we  rose  to  go,  he  said : 

"  Where  do  you  sleep  to-night  ?" 

"  We've  engaged  lodgings  on  the  steamer.  We  hope  to 
leave  you  to-morrow." 

As  we  passed  down  towards  the  wharf,  we  met  a  number  of 
officers  just  landed  from  a  small  steamer.  One  of  them,  though 
I  had  never  seen  him  before,  I  knew  at  once  to  be  General 
Butler.  Obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  I  halted  as  he  came 
abreast  of  us,  and  said  to  him  : 

"  I  want  to  take  yoa  by  the  hand  ;  I  am,  myself,  a  live 
Yankee,"  and  I  mentioned  my  name. 

Giving  me  a  cordial  grasp,  he  replied,  "  I'm  delighted  to 
meet  you.  Come  up  and  see  me.  Take  the  '  Gazelle'  to 
Point  of  Rocks — don't  go  to  Bermuda.     Come  to-morrow." 

I  then  introduced  the  Colonel,  and  the  General  again  urging 
us  to  visit  him,  we  promised  to  do  so.  • 

Reporting  our  intended  absence  to  General  Grant,  and 
requesting  him  to  forward  Lee's  answer  to  us  by  telegraph,  we 
set  out  on  the  following  morning  for  the  head-qnarters  of  "  Our 
Massachusetts  General."  We  found  them  about  a  mile  distant 
from  the  Appomatox  river,  in  a  worn-out  tobacco-field,  flanked 
on  two  sides  by  dense  woods,  and  hemmed  in  on  the  others 


256  DOWN    LS    TENNESSEE. 

by  "  moving"  banks  of  Virginia  sand.  It  was  a  dreary  spot, 
but  we  forgot  that,  the  moment  we  entered  the  General's  tent, 
and  he  accosted  us  with : 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come.     There  are  two  cots  in  the  corner. 

They  are  yours.      I  sent  your  flag  this  morning.     It  may  not 

'  be  back  for   some  days.     In  the  mean  time  make  yourselves  at 

home.     Go  and   come   when  you   like,  and  do  exactly  as  you 

please." 

We  remained  with  the  General  nearly  three  days,  and  they 
were  among  the  most  agreeable  days  I  ever  passed.  We  rode 
with  him  about  his  lines,  witnessing  his  reviews  of  the  black 
troops,  and  his  various  experiments  in  "  Greek  fire,"  ''  Proclama- 
tion kite"  flying,  and  "  infernal  shell"  shooting,  which  are 
proving  so  valuable  to  the  army  ;  or,  when  not  so  engaged,  sat 
with  him  in  his  tent,  listening  to  his  interesting  political  and 
military  experiences,  and  getting  such  inside  glimpses  of  "  But 
ler  in  New  Orleans"  as  are  not  to  be  found  even  in  Partou's 
admirable  book.  With  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  anecdote,  and  a  ready,  comprehensive  intellect,  he  is 
about  the  most  interesting  and  entertaining  conversationalist  I 
ever  knew.  In  hearing  him,  one  loses  the  "  power  of  speech," 
and  only  sits  still  and  listens.  He  knew  our  object  in  visiting 
Rebeldom,  and  one  morning  I  said  to  him  : 

"  General,  you  know  Jeff.  Davis.  Tell  us,  how^  shall  we 
approach  him  ? — what  shall  we  say  to  him  ?" 

Drawing  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  dilating  his  nostrils  in 
a  way  peculiar  to  himself,  he  answered : 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know  ?  Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  and, 
throwing  himself  into  an  attitude,  he  gave  us  for  half  an  hour 
an  imaginary  conversation  with  the  Rebel  leader,  personating 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    KICHMOND.  257 

first  him,  and  then  the  Colonel  and  myself,  and  "  doing"  us  so 
admir;\l)ly  that  I  almost  fancied  we  ourselves  were  actually 
speaking.  As  he  was  about  concluding,  General  Meade  entered 
the  front  tent,  and  as  he  rose  to  receive  his  visitor,  he  turned 
on  his  heel,  and— still  speaking  as  Jetf.  Davis— '' finished  us" 
as  follows : 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I've  said  my  say,  and  if  you  don't  clear 
out,  and  take  your  Yankee  notions  to  some  other  market,  I'll 
hang  you  to  the  first  tree — I  will,  as  I'm  a  Christian !" 

Afterwards,  when  listening  to  the  much  more  serious  words 
of  the  Rebel  leader,  I  had  often  to  smile  as  General  Butler's 
inimitable  personation  of  him  recurred  to  me  ;  and  when  again, 
late  at  night,  we  returned  from  the  Rebel  lines,  and  stiff  with 
long  riding,  and  exhausted  with  fatigue  and  illness,  I  staggered 
into  his  lent,  and  threw  myself  on  a  cot  in  the  corner,  I  almost 
died  with  laughter  while  the  Colonel  recounted  to  him  the  Rich- 
mond interview — it  was  so  like  the  advance  representation  he 
had  given  us.  If  we  had  known  Jeff.  Davis  as  General  Butler 
knows  him,  I  very  much  question  our  having  gone  to  Rich- 
mond. 

The  next  morning  the  flag-of-truce  ofiicer  came  into  camp 
with  a  dispatch,  of  which  the  following  is  a  copy : 

""War  Department,  Richmond,  Ya.,  July  I2th,  1864. 

"  To  the  OJicer  commanding 

the  United  States  Forces  at  Deep  Bottom,  Va.  : 

"  Sir  : — A  communication  from  Lieut.-General  U.  S.  Grant  to 

General  R.  E.  Lee,  requesting  that ,  Esq.,  and  Colonel 

James  F.  Jaqacss,  be  allowed  to  meet  the  undersigned  at  such 


258  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 

place  between  the  lines  of  the  two  armies  as  may  be  designated, 
having  been  referred  to  the  War  Department,  I  am  directed  to 
request  you  to  notify  Lieut-General  Grant  that  I  will  be  in 
attendance  at  some  convenient  point  between  Deep  Bottom  and 
Chaffin's  Bluff  (say  at  Mrs.  Grover's),  on  Thursday,  the  Uth 
inst.,  at  one  o'clock  p.  m.,  to  receive  any  communication  the 
above-named  parties  have  to  make. 
"  Respectfully, 

"Your  obedient  servant, 

"Ro.  OCLD, 
"  Agent  of  Exchanged 

At  the  appointed  time  we  rode  up  to  Mrs.  Grover's,  a  modest 
plantation  mansion,  about  midway  between  the  two  armies,  on 
the  James  River.  Our  "  Southern  friends"  were  not  there  ;  but 
in  the  edge  of  a  grove  of  cedars,  a  few  hundred  yards  distant, 
we  saw  a  white  flag  aflying.  Galloping  rapidly  across  the  in- 
tervening wheat-field,  we  soon  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  horses 
hitched  to  an  open,  two-seated  wagon,  and  near  it  saw  three 
gentlemen  seated  on  a  log  in  the  shade  of  a  huge  tree.  These 
gentlemen  rose  as  we  approached,  and  one  of  them — a  courteous, 
middle-aged  man,  in  a  Panama  hat  and  a  suit  of  spotless  white 
drillings — said  to  Major  Mulford,  the  Union  Commissioner,  who 
accompanied  us : 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Major.     It's  some  time  since  we  met." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  I've  come  now  to  deliver  to  you  these  gentle- 
men, to  be  shot  or  hanged — whichever  you  like." 

The  Judge — for  it  was  Judge  Ould — laughed,  and  then 
introduced  us  to  his  companions  —  Captain  Hatch,  of  the 
Commission,  and  Major  Henniken,  of  the  Rebel  War  Depart- 
ment. 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    RICHMOND.  259 

Some  unimportant  conversation  followed,  and  then,  saying  we 
would  like  to  speak  with  him  privately,  we  led  the  Judge  into 
the  grove  of  cedars.  There  we  opened  our  business.  He  lis- 
tened with  interest,  but  expressed  the  opinion  that  Mr.  Davis 
would  refuse  to  see  us,  unless  we  produced  credentials  from 
our  Government. 

**  We  have  none,"  said  the  Colonel,  in  his  earnest  way  ;  "  but 
we  must  see  him.  We  only  ask  a  hearing.  Then  he  may  hang 
or  shoot  us,  if  he  likes." 

"  Hang,  but  hear  !"  answered  the  Judge,  laughing.  "  That 
is  what  you  mean  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  We  have  that  to  say  which  Mr. 
Davis  ought  to  hear,  and  we  are  willing  to  risk  our  lives  to 
say  it." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Judge,  "  I  will  bear  your  message  to  the 
President,  and  meet  you  here  again — when  ?" 
"  To-morrow,  at  this  hour,  if  you  like." 
"  That  may  be  too  early.     Suppose  we   say  the  next  day, 
Saturday,  at  twelve  o'clock." 

"Very  well;  Saturday  let  it  be."  And  remounting  our 
horses,  we  rode  back  to  General  Butler's  camp. 

We  remained  there  the  following  day,  and  on  the  morning  of 
Saturday,  the  16th  of  July,  just  as  the  Boston  bells  were  sound- 
ing nine,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  we  said  to  him  : 

"  Good  by.  If  you  do  not  see  us  within  ten  days,  you  will 
know  we  have  'gone  up.'" 

"  If  I  do  not  see  you  within  that  time,"  he  replied,  "  Til  de- 
•jnand  you;  and  if  they  don't  produce  you,  body  and  soul,  I'll 
take  two  for  one,— better  men  than  you  are,— and  hang  them 
hit^her  than  Haman.     My  hand  on  that.     Good  by." 


260  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

At  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  mounted  on  two  raw-boned 
relics  of  Sheridan's  great  raid,  and  armed  with  a  letter  to  Jeff. 
Davis,  a  white  cambric  handkerchief  tied  to  a  short  stick,  and 
an  honest  face, — this  last  was  the  Colonel's, — we  rode  np  to  the 
rebel  lines.  A  ragged,  yellow-faced  boy,  with  a  carbine  in  one 
hand,  and  another  white  handkerchief  tied  to  another  short  stick 
in- the  other,  came  out  to  meet  us. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  my  man,  where  to  find  Judge  Ould,  the 
Exchange  Commissioner?" 

"  Yas.  Him  and  t'other  'Change  ofiicers  is  over  ter  the 
plantation  beyont  Miss  Grover's.  Ye'U  know  it  by  its  hevin' 
nary  door  nur  winder" — the  mansion,  he  meant.  "They's  all 
busted  in.  Poller  the  bridle-path  through  the  timber,  and  keep 
your  rag  a-flyin',  fur  our  boys  is  thicker  'n  huckelberries  in 
them  woods,  and  they  mought  pop  ye,  ef  they  didn't  seed  it." 

Thanking  him,  we  turned  our  horses  into  the  "  timber,"  and 
galloping  rapidly  on,  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  deserted  planta- 
tion. Lolling  on  the  grass,  in  the  shade  of  the  windowless 
mansion,  we  found  the  Confederate  officials.  They  rose  as  we 
approached  ;  and  one  of  us  said  to  the  Judge  : 

"  We  are  late,  but  it's  your  fault.  Your  people  fired  at  us 
down  the  river,  and  we  had  to  turn  back  and  come  over-land." 

"  You  don't  suppose  they  saw  your  flag  V 

"  No.  It  was  bidden  by  the  trees ;  but  a  shot  came  uncom- 
fortably near  us.  It  struck  the  water,  and  ricocheted  not  three 
yards  off.  A  little  nearer,  and  it  would  have  shortened  me  by  a 
head,  and  the  Colonel  by  two  feet." 

"That  would  have  been  a  sad  thing  for  you  ;  but  a  miss,  you 
know,  is  as  good  as  a  mile,"  said  the  Judge,  evidently  enjoying 
the  "joke." 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    RICHMOXD.  261 

"  We  hear  Grant  was  in  the  boat  that  followed  yours,  and  wa3 
struck  while  at  dinner,"  remarked  Captain  Hatch — a  gentleman, 
and  about  the  best-looking  man  in  tfie  Confederacy. 

*'  Indeed  !     Do  you  believe  it  ?" 

*'  I  don't  know,  of  course ;"  and  his  looks  asked  for  an  an- 
swer. We  gave  none,  for  all  such  information  is  contraband. 
We  might  have  told  him  that  Grant,  Butler,  and  Foster  exam- 
ined their  position  from  Mrs.  Grover's  house — a  few  hundred 
yards  distant — two  hours  after  the  Rebel  cannon-ball  danced  a 
break-down  on  the  Lieutenant-General's  dinner-table. 

In  addition  to  the  Major  Henniken  previously  spoken  of, 
there  were  present,  on  this  occasion,  several  other  officials, 
whose  appearance  indicated  that  we  were  to  be  welcomed  in 
Richmond. 

One  of  them  was  a  stoutly  built  man,  of  medium  height, 
with  a  short,  thick  neck,  and  arms  and  shoulders  denoting 
great  strength.  He  looked  a  natural-born  jailer,  and  much  such 
a  character  as  a  timid  man  would  not  care  to  encounter,  except 
at  long  range  of  a  rifle  warranted  to  fire  twenty  shots  a  minute, 
and  to  hit  every  time.  This  was  Mr.  Charles  Javins,  of  the 
Richmond  Provost-Guard,  and  he  was  our  shadow  in  Dixie. 
Another  was  a  "  likely"  "  cullud  gemman,"  named  Jack,  who 
told  us  he  was  almost  the  sole  survivor  of  "  Massa  Allen's" 
twelve  hundred  slaves — "  De  res'  all  stole,  Massa — stole  by  you 
Yankees," — and  the  others  were  two  mules  hitched  to  an  am- 
bulance, which,  over  ruts,  stumps,  and  an  awful  sandy  road, 
bore  us  safely  to  the  Rebel  capital. 

To  give  us  a  moonlight  view  of  the  fortifications,  Judge  Ould 
proposed  to  start  after  sundown ;  and  as  it  wanted  some  hours 
of  that  time,  we  seated  ourselves  on  the  ground,  and  entered  into 


262  DO\VN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

conversation.  The  treatment  of  our  prisoners,  the  status  of  black 
troops,  and  non-combatants,  and  all  the  questions  which  have 
led  to  the  suspension  of  exchanges,  had  been  good-naturedly 
discussed,  when  the  Captain,  looking  up  from  one  of  the  North- 
ern papers  we  had  brought  him,  said — 

"  Don't  you.  know,  it  mortifies  me  that  you  don't  hate  us  as 
we  hate  you  ?  You  kill  us  as  Agassiz  kills  a  fly, — because  you 
love  us." 

"  Of  course  we  do.  The  North  is  being  crucified  for  love  of 
the  South." 

*'  If  you  love  us  so,  why  don't  you  let  us  go  ?"  asked  the 
Judge,  rather  curtly. 

"  For  that  very  reason, — because  wc  love  you.  If  we  let  you 
go,  with  slavery,  and  your  notions  of  'empire,'  you'd  run 
straight  to  barbarism  and  the  Devil." 

"  We'd  take  the  risk  of  that.  But,  let  me  tell  you,  if  you 
are  going  to  Mr.  Davis  with  any  such  ideas,  you  might  as  well 
turn  back  at  once.  He  can  make  peace  on  no  other  basis  than 
Independence.  Recognition  must  be  the  beginning,  middle, 
and  ending  of  all  negotiations.  The  people  will  accept  peace 
on  no  other  terms." 

"I  think  you  are  wrong  there,"  said  the  Colonel.  "When 
I  was  here  a  year  ago,  I  met  many  of  your  leadthg  men,  and 
they  all  assured  me  they  wanted  peace  and  reunion,  even  at  the 
sacrifice  of  slavery.  Within  a  week,  a  man  you  venerate  and 
love  has  met  me  at  J^altimore,  and  besought  me  to  come  here 
and  offer  Mr.  Davis  peace  on  such  conditions." 

"That  may  be.  Some  of  our  old  men,  who  are  weak  in  the 
knees,  may  want  peace  on  any  terms  ;  but  the  Southern  people 
will  not  have  it  without  Independence.    Mr.  Davis  knows  them, 


ON    THE    WAT    TO    KICUMOND.  263 

and  you  will  find  he  will  insist  upon  that.     Concede  that,  and 
we'll  not  quarrel  about  minor  matters." 

*'  We'll  not  quarrel  at  all.  But  it's  sundown,  and  time  we 
were  '  on  to  Richmond.'  " 

"That  's  the  'Tribune'  cry,"  said  the  Captain,  rising;  "and  I 
hurrah  fur  the  *  Tribune,'  for  it 's  honest,  and — I  want  my  sup- 
per." 

We  all  laughed,  and  the  Judge  ordered  the  horses.  As  we 
were  about  to  start,  I  said  to  him  : — 

"  You  've  forgotten  our  parole." 

"  Oh  !  never  mind  that.     We  '11  attend  to  that  at  Richmond." 

Stepping  into  his  carnage,  and  unfurling  the  flag  of  truce, 
he  then  led  the  way,  by  a  "  short  cut,"  across  the  cornfield 
which  divided  the  mansion  from  the  high-road.  We  followed 
in  the  ambulance,  our  shadow,  Mr.  Javins,  sitting  between  us 
and  the  twilight,  and  Jack  occupying  the  front  seat,  and,  with  a 
stout  whip,  "  working  our  passage"  to  Richmond. 

Much  that  was  amusing  and  interesting  occurred  durinor  our 
three-hours'  journey,  but  regard  for  my  word  forbids  my  rela- 
ting it.  Suflfice  it  to  say,  we  saw  the  "  frowning  fortifications,'* 
we  "  flanked"  the  "  invincible  army,"  and,  at  ten  o'clock  that 
night,  planted  our  flag  (against  a  lamp-post)  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  hostile  city.  As  we  alighted  at  the  doorway  of  the  Spots- 
wood  Hotel,  the  Judge  said  to  the  Colonel, — 

"  Button  your  outside  coat  up  closely.  Your  uniform  must 
not  be  seen  here." 

The  Colonel  did  as  he  was  bidden  ;  and,  without  stopping  to 
register  our  names  at  the  oflScc,  we  followed  the  Judge  and  the 
Captain  up  to  No.  60.  It  was  a  large,  square  room,  in  the 
fourth  story,  with  an  unswept,  ragged  carpet,  and  bare  white 


264  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

walls,  smeared  with  soot  and  tobacco-juice.  Several  chairj*,  a 
marble-top  table,  and  a  pine  wash-stand  and  clothes-press,  str  ig- 
gled  about  the  floor,  and  in-  the  corners  were  three  beds,  gar- 
nished with  tattered  pillow-cases,  and  covered  with  white  ctnin- 
terpanes,  grown  gray  with  longing  for  soapsuds  and  a  wash-tub. 
The  plainer  and  humbler  of  these  beds  was  designed  for  the 
burly  Mr.  Javins ;  the  others  had  been  made  ready  for  the 
extraordinary  envoys  (not  envoys  extraordinary)  who,  in  defi- 
ance of  all  precedent  and  the  "law  of  nations,"  had  just  "  taken 
Richmond." 

A  single  gas-jet  was  burning  over  the  mantel-piece,  and  above 
it  I  saw  a  "  writing  on  the  wall,"  which  implied  that  Jane  Jack- 
son had  run  up  a  washing-score  of  fifty  dollars  ! 

I  was  congratulating  myself  on  not  having  to  pay  that  wo- 
man's laundry-bills,  when  the  Judge  said  : 

"  You  want  supper.     What  shall  we  order  ?" 

"  A  slice  of  hot  corn-bread  would  make  me  the  happiest  man 
in  Richmond." 

The  Captain  thereupon  left  the  room,  and,  shortly  returning, 
remarked : 

"  The  landlord  swears  you're  from  Georgia.  He  says  none 
but  a  Georgian  would  call  for  corn-bread  at  this  time  of 
night." 

On  that  hint  we  acted,  and  when  our  sooty  attendant  came 
in  with  the  supper-things,  we  discussed  Georgia  mines,  Georgia 
banks,  and  Georgia  mosquitoes,  in  a  way  that  showed  we  had 
been  bitten  by  all  of  them.  In  half  an  hour  it  was  noised  all 
about  the  hotel  that  the  two  gentlemen  the  Confederacy  was 
taking  such  excellent  care  of  were  from  Georgia. 

The  meal  ended,  and  a  quiet  smoke  over,  our  entertainers 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    RICHMOND.  265 

rose   to    go.     As   the   Judge    bade   us  "good-night,"  he  said 
to  us : 

"  lu  the  morning  you  had  better  address  a  note  to  Mr.  Ben- 
jamin, asking  the  interview  with  the  President.  I  will  call  at 
Un  o'clock,  and  take  it  to  him." 

"  Very  well.     But  will  Mr.  Davis  see  us  on  Sunday  ?" 

"  Oh  !  that  will  make  no  difference." 
12 


260  DOWN    IN   TENNESSEE. 


.  CHAPTER  XXII. 

IN    RICHMOND. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  wliicli  we  took  in  our 
room  with  Mr.  Javins,  wc  indited  a  note — of  wliich  the  following 
is  a  copy — to  the  Confederate  Secretary  of  State : 

"Spotswood  House,  Eichhoxd,  Ya., 
''July  17,  18G4. 
"  Hon.  J.  P.  Benjamin,  Secretary  of  State,  etc. 

''Dear  Sir: — The  undersigned  respectfully  solicit  an  inter- 
view witji  President  Davis. 

"  They  visit  Pichmond  only  as  private  citizens,  and  have  no 
official  character  or  authority  ;  but  they  are  acquainted  with 
the  views  of  the  United  States  Government,  and  with  the  sen- 
timents of  the  Northern  people,  relative  to  an  adjustment  of  the 
differences  existing  between  the  North  and  the  South,  and  ear- 
nestly hope  that  a  free  interchange  of  views  between  President 
Davis  and  themselves  may  open  the  way  to  such  official  nego- 
tiations-as  will  result  in  restoring  peace  to  the  two  sections  of 
our  distracted  country. 

"They  therefore  ask  an  interview  with  the  President,  and, 
awaiting  your  reply,  are 

"  Truly  and  respectfully  yours." 

This  was  signed  by  both  of  us ;  and  when  the  Judge  called, 
as  he  had  appointed,  we  sent  it — together  with  a  commenda- 
tory letter  I  had  received  on  setting  out,  from  a  near  relative  of 


IN    RICHMOND.  26Y 

Mr.  Davis — to  the  Rebel  Secretary.  In  half  an  hour  Judge 
Ould  returned,  saying:  "Mr.  Benjamin  sends  you  his  compli- 
ments, and  will  be  happy  to  se6  you  at  the  State  Depart- 
ment." 

We  found  the  Secretary— a  short,,  plump,  oily  little  man  in 
black,  with  a  keen  black  eye,  a  Jew  face,  a  yellow  skin,  curly 
black  hair,  closely-trimmed  black  whiskers,  and  a  ponderous  gold 
watch-chain — in  tlie  northwest  room  of  the  "  United  States" 
Custom-House.  Over  the  door  of  this  room  were  the  words, 
"  State  Department,"  and  about  its  walls  were  hung  a  few  maps 
and  battle-plans.  In  one  corner  was  a  tier  of  shelves,  filled 
with  books, — among  which  I  noticed  Headley's  "History," 
Lossing's  "  Pictorial,"  Parton's  "Butler,"  Greeley's  "  American 
Conflict,"  a  complete  set  of  the  "  Rebellion  Record,"  and  a 
dozen  numbers  and  several  bound  volumes  of  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly," — and  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment  was  a  black- 
walnut  table,  covered. with  green  cloth,  and  filled  with  a  multi- 
tude of  "  State  papers."  At  this  table  sat  the  Secretary.  He 
rose  as  we  entered,  and,  as  Judge  Onld  introduced  us,  took  our 
hands,  and  said : 

"  I  am  glad,  very  glad,  to  meet  you,  gentlemen.  I  have  read 
your  note,  and" — bowing  to   me — "  the  letter  you  bring  from 

.     Your   errand   commands   my    respect   and   sympathy. 

Pray  be  seated." 

As  we  took  the  profi*ered  seats,  the  Colonel,  drawing  oflf  his 
"  duster,"  and  displaying  his  uniform,  said  : 

"  We  thank  you  for  this  cordial  reception,  Mr.  Benjamin. 
We  trust  you  will  be  as  glad  to  hear  us  as  you  are  to  sec  us." 

"  No  doubt  I  shall  be,  for  you  come  to  talk  of  peace.  Peace 
is  what  we  all  want." 


26S  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"  It  is,  indeed ;  and  for  that  reason  we  have  come  to  see  Mr. 
Davis.     Can  we  see  him,  Sir  ?" 

"  Do  you  bring  any  overtures  to  him  from  your  Govern- 
ment ?" 

"  No,  Sir.  We  bring  no  overtures  and  have  no  authority 
from  our  Government.  We  state  that  in  our  note.  We  would 
be  glad,  however,  to  know  wliat  terms  will  be  acceptable  to  Mr. 
Davis.  If  they  at  all  harmonize  with  Mr.  Lincoln's  views,  we 
will  report  them  to  him,  and  so  open  the  door  for  official  nego- 
tiations." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Lincoln's  views?" 

"  One  of  us  is,  fully  ?" 

"Did  Mr.  Lincoln,  in  any  wat/,  authorize  you  to  come 
here  ?" 

"  No,  Sir.  We  came  with  his  pass,  but  not  by  his  request. 
We  say,  distinctly,  we  have  no  official,  or  unofficial,  authority. 
We  come  as  men  and  Christians,  not  as  diplomatists,  hoping,  in 
a  frank  talk  with  Mr.  Davis,  to  discover  some  way  by  which 
this  war  may  be  stopped." 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I  will  repeat  what  yon  say  to  the  Presi- 
dent, and  if  lie  follows  my  advice, — and  I  think  he  will, — he 
will  meet  you.  He  will  be  at  churcb  this  afternoon ;  so,  sup- 
pose you  call  here  at  nine  this  evening.  If  any  thing  should 
occur  in  the  mean  time  to  prevent  his  seeing  you,  I  will  let  you 
know  throufjh  Judrre  Onld." 

Throughout  this  interview  the  manner  of  the  Secretary  was 
cordial ;  but  with  this  cordiality  was  a  strange  constraint  and 
diffidence,  almost  amounting  to  timidity,  which  struck  botli  ray 
companion  and  myself.  Contrasting  his  manner  with  the  quiet 
dio-nity  of  the  Colonel,  I  almost  fancied  our  positions  reversed, 


IN    RICHMOND.  269 

— that,  instead  of  our  being  in  his  power,  the  Secretary  was 
in  ours,  and  momently  expected  to  hear  some  unwelcome  sen- 
tence from  our  lips.  There  is  something,  after  all,  in  moral 
power.  Mr.  Benjamin  does  not  possess  it,  nor  is  he  a  great 
man.  lie  has  a  keen,  shrewd,  ready  intellect,  but  not  the 
stamina  to  originate,  or  even  to  execute,  any  great  good,  or  great 
wickedness. 

After  a  day  spent  in  our  room,  conversing  with  the  Judge,  or 
watching  the  passers-by  in  the  street, — I  would  like  to  tell  who 
they  were,  and  how  they  looked ;  but  such  information  is,  just 
now,  contraband, — we  called  again,  at  nine  o'clock,  at  the  State 
Department. 

Mr.  Benjamin  occupied  his  previous  seat  at  the  table,  and  at 
his  right  sat  a  spare,  thin-featured  man,  with  iron-gray  hair  and 
beard,  and  a  clear,  gray  eye,  full  of  life  and  vigor.  He  had  a 
broad,  massive  forehead,  and  a  mouth  and  chin  denoting  great 
enero;v  and  streno-th  of  will.  His  face  was  emaciated,  and 
much  wrinkled,  but  his  features  were  good,  especially  his  eyes, 
— though  one  of  them  bore  a  scar,  apparently  made  by  some 
sharp  instrument.  He  wore  a  suit  of  grayish-brown,  evidently 
of  foreign  manufacture,  and,  as  he  rose,  I  saw  that  he  was 
about  five  feet  ten  inches  high,  with  a  slight  stoop  in  the 
shoulders.  His  manners  were  simple,  easy,  and  most  fasci- 
nating ;  and  there  was  an  indescribable  charm  in  his  voice,  as 
he  extended  his  hand  and  said  to  us : 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  gentlemen.  You  are  very  welcome 
to  Eichmond." 

And  this  was  the  man  who  -was  President  of  the  United 
States,  under  Franklin  Pierce,  and  who  is  now  the  heart,  soul, 
and  brains  of  the  Southern  Confcderacv  I 


270  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

His  manner  put  me  entirely  at  my  ease, — the  Colonel  would 
be  at  his,  if  he  stood  before  Caesar, — and  I  replied : 

*'  We  thank  you,  Mr.  Davis.  It  is  not  often  that  you  meet 
men  of  our  clothes  and  our  principles  in  Richmond." 

"  Not  often, — not  so  often  as  I  could  wish ;  and  I  trust  your 
coming  may  lead  to  a  more  frequent  and  a  more  friendly  inter- 
course between  the  North  and  the  South." 

"  We  sincerely  hope  it  may." 

*'•  Mr.  Benjamin  tells  me  that  you  have  asked  to  see  me  to — " 

And  he  paused,  as  if  desiring  we  should  finish  the  sentence. 
The  Colonel  replied : 

"  Yes,  Sir.  We  have  asked  this  interview,  in  the  hope  that 
you  may  suggest  some  way  by  which  this  ^ar  may  be  stopped. 
Our  people  want  peace, — your  people  do,  and  your  Congress 
has  recently  said  that  you  do.  We  have  come  to  ask  how  it 
can  be  brought  about." 

"  In  a  very  simple  way.  Withdraw  your  armies  from  our 
territory,  and  peace  will  come  of  itself.  We  do  not  seek  to 
subjugate  you.  We  are  not  waging  an  offensive  war,  except  so 
far  as  it  is  offensive-defensive, — that  is,  so  far  as  we  are  forced 
to  invade  you  to  prevent  your  invading  us.  Let  us  alone,  and 
peace  will  come  at  once. 

"  But  we  cannot  let  you  alone  so  long  as  you  repudiate  the 
Union.  That  is  the  one  thing  the  Northern  people  will  not 
surrender." 

"  I  know.  You  would  deny  to  us  what  you  exact  for  your- 
selves— the  right  of  self-government." 

"N"©,  Sir,"  I  remarked.  "  We  would  deny  you  no  natural 
right.  But  we  think  Union  essential  to  peace ;  and,  Mr.  Davis., 
could  two  people,  with   the  same  language,  separated  by  only 


IN    KICUMOND.  271 

an  imaginary  line,  live  at  peace  with  each  other  ?  Would  not 
disputes  constantly  arise,  and  cause  almost  constant  war  between 
them  ?" 

"Undoubtedly,  —  with  this  generation.  You  have  sown 
such  bitterness  at  the  South  ;  you  have  put  such  an  ocean  of 
blood  between  the  two  sections,  that  I  despair  of  seeing  any 
harmony  in  my  time.  Our  children  may  forget  this  war,  but 
we  cannot." 

"I  think  the  bitterness  you  speak  of,  Sir,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"does  not  really  exist.  We  meet  and  talk  here  as  friends;  our, 
soldiers  meet  and  fraternize  with  each  other  ;  and  I  feel  sure 
that  if  the  Union  were  restored,  a  more  friendly  feeling  would 
arise  between  us  than  has  ever  existed.  The  war  has  made  us 
kn-ow  and  respect  each  other  better  than  before.  This  is  the 
view  of  very  many  Southern  men  ;  I  have  had  it  from  many 
of  them, — your  leading  citizens." 

"  They  are  mistaken,"  replied  Mr.  Davis.  "  They  do  not 
understand  Southern  sentiment.  How  can  we  feel  any  thing 
but  bitterness  towards  men  who  deny  us  our  rights  ?  If  you 
enter  my  house  and  drive  me  out  of  it,  am  I  not  your  natural 
enemy  ?" 

"  You  put  the  case  too  strongly.  But  we  cannot  fight  for- 
ever; the  war  must  end  at  some  time;  we  must  finally  agree 
upon  something;  can  we  not  agree  now,  and  stop  this  frightful 
carnage  ?  We  are  both  Christian  men,  Mr.  Davis.  '  Can  you, 
as  a  Christian  man,  leave  untried  any  means  that  may  lead  to 
peace  V^ 

"  No,  I  cannot.  I  desire  peace  as  much  as  you  do.  I  de- 
plore bloodshed  as  much  as  you  do ;  but  I  feel  that  not  one 
drop  of  the  blood  shed  in  this  war  is  on  my  hands, — I  can  look 


272  DOWN    IN    TENNESSKE. 

up  to  my  God  and  say  this.  I  tried  all  in  my  power  to  avert 
this  war.  I  saw  it  coming,  and  for  twelve  years  I  worked  night 
and  day  to  prevent  it,  but  I  could  not.  The  Xorth  was  mad 
and  blind ;  it  w^ould  not  let  us  govern  ourselves,  and  so  the  war 
came,  and  now  it  must  go  on  till  the  last  man  of  this  generation 
falls  in  his  tracks,  and  his  children  seize  his  musket  and  fight 
our  battle,  unless  you  acknowledge  our  right  to  self-government. 
We  are  not  fighting  for  slavery.  We  are  fighting  for  Indepen- 
dence, and  that,  or  extermination,  we  will  have." 

'*  And  there  are,  at  least,  four  and  a  half  millions  of  us  left ; 
so  you  see  you  have  a  work  before  you,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin, 
-with  a  decided  sneer. 

"  We  have  no  wish  to  exterminate  you,"  answered  the 
Colonel.  "  I  believe  what  I  have  said, — that  there  is  no  bitter- 
ness between  the  Northern  and  Southern  people.  The  North, 
I  know,  loves  the  South.  When  peace  comes,  it  will  pour 
money  and  means  into  your  hands  to  repair  the  waste  caused 
by  the  war ;  and  it  would  now  welcome  you  back,  and  forgive 
you  all  the  loss  and  bloodshed  you  have  caused.  But  we  must 
crush  your  armies,  and  exterminate  your  Government.  And  is 
not  that  already  nearly  done  ?  You  are  wholly  w  ithout  money, 
and  at  the  end  of  your  resources.  Grant  has  shut  you  up  in 
Pdchmond.  Sherman  is  before  Atlanta.  Had  you  not,  then, 
better  accept  honorable  terms  while  you  can  retain  your  pres- 
tige, and' save  the  pride  of  the  Southern  people  ?" 

Mr.  Davis  smiled. 

*'  I  respect  your  earnestness.  Colonel,  but  you  do  not  seem  to 
understand  the  situation.  We  are  not  exactly  shut  up  in  Rich- 
mond. If  your  papers  tell  the  truth,  it  is  your  capital  that  is 
in  danger,  not  ours.     Some  weeks  ago.  Grant  crossed  the  Rapi- 


IN    KICUMOND".  -*3 

dan  to  ^v'hip  Leo,  and  take  Richmond.     Lee  drove  him  in  the 
first  battle,  and  tlien  Grant  executed  what  your  people  call  a 
'  brilliant  flank  movement,'  and  fought  Lee  again.      Lee  drove 
him  a.second  time,  and  then  Grant  made  another  '  flank  move- 
ment;' and  so  they  kept   on,-Lee  whipping,  and  Grant  flank- 
ii,g  _until  Grant  got  ^vhere  he  is  now.     And  what  is  the  net 
result  ?     Grant  has  lost  seventy-five  or  eighty  thousand  men- 
more    than  Lee   had  at  the  outset— ^n<i   is   no   nearer  taking 
llichmond  than  at  first;  and  Lee,  ^vhose  front  has  never  been 
broken,  holds  him  completely  in  check,  and  has  men  enough  to 
spare  to  invade   Maryland  and  threaten  Washington  1     Sher- 
man,  to  be   sure,   is  before  Atlanta;  but   suppose   he  is,  and 
suppose  he  takes  it  ?     You  know  that  the  farther  he  goes  from 
his  base  of  supplies,  the  weaker  he  grows,  and  the  more  dis- 
astrous defeat  will  be  to  him.     And  defeat  may  come.     So, 
in  a  military  view,  I  should  certainly  say  our  position  was  bet- 
ter than  yours. ' 

"  As  to  money :  we  are  richer  than  you  are.     You  smile ; 
but,  admit  that  our  paper  is  worth  nothing,— it  answers  as  a 
circulating  medium,  and  we  hold  it  all  ourselves.     If  every  dol- 
lar  of  it  were  lost,  we  should,  as  we  have  no  foreign  debt,  be 
none  the  poorer.     But,  it  is  worth  something;  it  has  the  solid 
basis  of  a  large  cotton-crop,  while  yours  rests  on  nothing,  and 
you  owe  all  the  world.     As  to  resources  :  we  do  not  lack  for 
arm's  or  ammunition,  and  we  have  still  a  wide  territory  from 
which  to  gather  supplies.     So,  you  see,  we  are  not  in  extremi- 
ties.    But,  if  we  were, — if  we   were  without  money,  without 
food,  without  weapons,— if  our  whole  country  were  desolated, 
and   our   armies   crushed   and   disbanded,— could  we,  without 
giving  up  our  manhoo.1,  give  up  our  right  to  govern  ourselves? 
12* 


274  DOWN    IN   TENNES^EI". 

Would  you  not  rather  die,  and  feel  yourself  a  man,  than  live, 
and  be  subject  to  a  foreign  power?'' 

"  From  your  stand-point  there  is  force  in  what  you  say,"  re- 
plied the  Colonel.  "  But  we  did  not  come  here  to  argue  with 
you,  Mr.  Davis.  We  came,  hoping  to  find  some  honorable  way 
to  peace,  and  I  am  grieved  to  hear  you  say  what  you  do.  When 
I  have  seen  your  young  men  dying  on  the  battle-field,  and  your 
old  men,  women,  and  children  starving  in  their  homes,  I  have 
felt  I  could  risk  my  life  to  save  them.  For  that  reason  I  am 
here  ;  and  I  am  grieved, — grieved, — that  there  is  no  hope." 
•  "  I  know  your  motives,  Colonel  Jaquess,  and  I  honor  you 
for  them ;  bat  what  can  I  do  more  than  I  am  doing  ?  I 
would  give  my  poor  life,  gladly,  if  it  would  bring  peace  and 
good-will  to  the  two  countries  ;  but  it  would  not.  It  is  with 
your  own  people  you  should  labor.  It  is  they  who  desolate 
our  homes,  burn  our  wheat-fields,  break  the  wheels  of  w^agons 
carrying  away  our  women  and  children,  and  destroy  supplies 
meant  for  our  sick  and  wounded.  At  your  door  lies  all  the 
misery  and  the  crime  of  this  war,  and  it  is  a  fearful, — fearful 
account." 

"  Not  all  of  it,  Mr.  Davis.  I  admit  a  fearful  account,  but  it 
is  not  all  at  our  door.  The  passions  of  both  sides  are  aroused. 
Unarmed  men  are  banged,  prisoners  are  shot  down  in  cold 
blood,  by  yourselves.  Elements  of  barbarism  are  entering  the 
war  from  both  sides,  that  should  make  us — you  and  me,  as 
Christian  men — shudder  to  think  of.  In  God's  name,  then,  let 
us  stop  it.  Let  us  do  something,  concede  something,  to  bring 
about  peace.  You  cannot  expect,  with  only  four  and  a  half 
millions,  as  Mr.  Benjamin  says  you  have,  to  hold  out  forever 
aofainst  twentv  millions." 


IN    RICHMOND.  ''276 

Again  Mr.  Davis  smilod. 

*'  Do  you  suppose  there  arc  twenty  millions  at  the  North 
determined  to  crush  us  ?" 

"  T  do, — to  crush  your  Government.  A  small  number  of  our 
people,  a  very  small  number,  are  your  friends, — Secessionists. 
The  rest  differ  about  measures  and  candidates,  but  are  united  in 
the  determination  to  sustain  the  Union.  Whoever  is  elected  in 
Xovember,  he  must  be  committed  to  a  vigorous  prosecution  of 
the  war." 

Mr.  Davis  still  looking  incredulous,  I  remarked — 

"  It  is  so,  Sir.  Whoever  tells  you  otherwise,  deceives  you. 
I  think  I  know  Northern  sentiment,  and  I  assure  you  it  is  so. 
You  know  we  have  a  system  of  lyceum-lecturing  in  our  large 
towns.  -fAt  the  close  of  these  lectures,  it  is  the  custom  of  the 
people  to  come  upon  the  platform  and  talk  with  the  lecturer. 
This  gives  him  an  excellent  opportunity  of  learning  public  sen- 
timent. Last  winter  I  lectured  before  nearly  a  hundred  of  such 
associations,  all  over  the  North, — from  Dubuque  to  Bangor, — - 
and  I  took  pains  to  ascertain  the  feeling  of  the  people.  I  found 
a  unanimous  determination  to  crush  the  relxillion  and  save  the 
Union  at  every  sacrifice.  The  majority  are  in  favor  of  Mr. 
Lincoln,  and  nearly  all  of  those  opposed  to  him  are  opposed  to 
him  because  they  think  he  does  not  fight  you  with  enough 
vigor.  The  radical  Republicans,  who  go  for  slave-suflfrage  and 
thorough  confiscation,  are  those  who  will  defeat  him,  if  he  is 
defeated.  But  if  he  is  defeated  before  the  people,  the  House 
will  elect  a  worse  man — worse  I  mean  for  yon.  It  is  more 
radical  than  he  is, — you  can  see  tliat  from  Mr.  Ashley's  recon- 
struction bill, — and  the  people  are  more  radical  than  the  House. 
Mr.  Lincoln,  I  know,  is  about  to  call  out  five  hundred  thousand 


276  DOWN    IN    TENNnS^Ei-:. 

more  men,  and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  resist  ninch  longer; 
Lilt  if  yoa  do,  you  will  only  deepen  the  radical  feeling  of  the 
Northern  people.  They  would  now  give  you  fair,  honorable, 
generous  terms  ;  but  let  them  suffer  much  more,  let  there  be  a 
dead  man  in  every  house,  as  there  is  now  in  every  village,  and 
they  will  give  you  no  terms, — they  will  insist  on  hanging  every 
rebel  south  of Pardon  my  terms.     I  mean  no  offence." 

"You  give  no  offence,"  he  replied,  smiling  very  pleasantly. 
"  I  wouldn't  have  you  pick  your  words.  This  is  a  frank,  free 
talk,  and  I  like  you  the  better  for  saying  what  you  think.  Go 
on." 

"  I  was  merely  going  to  add,  that  let  the  Northern  people 
once  really  feel  the  war — they  do  not  feel  it  yet — and  they  will 
insist  on  hanging  every  one  of  your  leaders."  • 

"  Well,  admitting  all  you  say,  I  can't  see'  how  it  affects  our 
position.  There  are  some  things  worse  than  hanging  or  exter- 
mination. We  reckon  giving  up  the  right  of  self-government 
one  of  those  things." 

"By  self-government  you  mean  disunion — Southern  Inde- 
pendence." 

"Yes." 

"  And  slavery,  you  say,  is  no  longer  an  element  in  the  con- 
test ?" 

"No,  it  is  not.  It  never  was  an  essential  element.  It  was 
onlv  a  means  of  briuorino;  other  confiictino'  elements  to  an 
earlier  culmination.  It  fired  the  musket  which  was  already- 
capped  and  loaded.  There  are  essential  differences  between 
the  North  and  the  South,  that  will,  however  this  war  may  end, 
make  them  two  nations." 

"  You  ask  me  to  say  what  I  think.     Will  yon   allow  me  to 


IN    RICHMOND.  277 

say  that   I  know  the   South   pretty  well,  and   never  observed 
those  ditFerences  ?" 

"  Then  you  have  not  used  your  eyes.  My  sight  is  poorer 
than  yours,  but  I  have  seen  them  for  years." 

The  laugh  was  upon  me,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  enjoyed  it. 

"Well,  Sir,  be  that  as  it  may,  if  I  understand  you,  the  dis- 
pute between  your  government  and  ours  is  now  narrowed  down 
to  this":   Union  or  Disunion." 

"  Yes ;  or,  to  put  it  in  other  words.  Independence  or  Subju- 
gation." 

"Then  the  two  governments  are  irreconcilably  apart.  They 
have  no  alternative  but  to  fight  it  out.  But,  it  is  not  so  with 
the  people.  They  are  tired  of  fighting  and  want  peace  ;  and,  as 
they  bear  all  the  burden  and  suffering  of  the  war,  is  it  not  right 
they  should  have  peace,  and  have  it  on  such  terms  as  they  like  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you  ;  be  a  little  more  explicit." 

"  Well.  Suppose  the  two  governments  should  agree  to 
something  like  this :  To  go  to  the  people  with  two  proposi- 
tions;  say  :  Peace^with  Disunion  and  Southern  Independence, 
as  your  proposition  ;  and  :  Peace,  with  Union,  Emancipation, 
No  Confiscation,  and  Universal  Amnesty  as  ours.  Let  the  citi- 
zens of  all  the  United  States  (as  they  existed  before  the  war) 
vote  '  Yes,'  or  '  No,'  on  these  two  propositions,  at  a  special 
election  within  sixty  days.  If  a  majority  vote  Disunion,  our 
government  to  be  bound  by  it,  and  to  let  you  go  in  peace.  If 
a  majority  vote  Union,  yours  to  be  bound  by  it,  and  to  stay 
in  peace.  The  two  governments  can  contract  in  this  way,  and  the 
people,  though  constitutionally  unable  to  decide  on  peace  or  war, 
can  elect  which  of  any  two  propositions  shall  govern  tlieir 
rulers.     Let  Lee  and  Grant,  meanwhile,  agree  to  an  armistice. 


27s  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

This  would  sheathe  the  sword  ;  and,  if  once  sheathed,  it  would 
never  again  be  drawn  by  this  generation." 

"The  plan  is  altogether  impracticable.  If  the  South  were 
onh'  one  State,  it  miglit  work  ;  but,  as  it  is,  if  one  Southern 
State  objected  to  emancipation,  it  w^ould  nullify  the  whole 
thing,  for  you  are  aware  the  people  of  Virginia  cannot  vote 
slavery  out  of  South  Carolina,  or  the  people  of  South  Carolina 
vote  it  out  of  Virginia." 

"  But  three-fourths  of  the  States  can  amend  the  Constitution. 
Let  it  be  done  in  that  way — in  any  way,  so  that  it  be  done  by 
the  people.  I  am  not  a  statesman  or  a  politician,  and  I  do  not 
know  just  how  such  a  plan  could  be  carried  out;  but  you  get 
the  idea — that  the  people  shall  decide  the  question." 

"  That  the  majority  shall  decide  it,  you  mean.  V\7'e  seceded 
to  rid  ourselves  of  the  rule  of  the  majority,  and  this  would 
subject  us  to  it  again." 

"  But  the  majority  must  rule  finally,  either  with  bullets  or 
ballots." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  Xeither  current  events  nor  his- 
tory shows  that  the  majority  rules,  or  ever  did  rule.  The  con- 
trary, I  think,  is  true.  Why,  Sir,  the  man  who  shall  go  before 
the  Southern  people  with  such  a  proposition — with  any  propo- 
sition which  implied  that  the  Xorth  was  to  have  a  voice  in 
determining  the  domestic  relations  of  the  South — could  not 
live  here  a  day  !  He  would  be  hanged  to  the  first  tree,  without 
judge  or  jury." 

''  Allow  me  to  doubt  that.  I  think  it  more  likely  he  would 
be  hanged  if  he  let  the  Southern  people  know  the  majority 
could  not  rule,"  I  replied,  smiling. 

"I  have  no  fear  of  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Davis,  also  smiling 


IN    RICHMOND.  279 

most  good-bumoredl y,  "  I  give  you  leave  to  proclaim  it  from 
every  house-top  in  the  South." 

"But,  seriously,  Sir,  you  let  the  majority  rule  in  a  single 
State ;  why  not  let  it  rule  in  the  whole  country  ?" 

"  Because  the  States  are  independent  and  sovereign.  The 
country  is  not.  It  is  only  a  confederation  of  States ;  or  rather 
it  ivas  :  it  is  now  two  confederations." 

''  Then  we  are  not  a  people — we  are  only  a  political  partner- 
ship?" 

"  That  is  all." 

"  Your  very  name,  Sir,  '  United  States,'  implies  that,"  said 
Mr.  Benjamin.  "But,  tell  me,  are  the  terms  you  have. named 
— Emancipation,  No  Confiscation,  and  Universal  Amnesty — 
the  terms  which  Mr.  Lincoln  authorized  you  to  offer  us?" 

"  Xo,  Sir.  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  authorize  me  to  offer  you 
any  terms.  But  I  think  both  he  and  the  Northern  people,  for 
the  sake  of  peace,  would  assent  to  some  such  conditions." 

"They  are  i^ery  generous,"  replied  Mr.  Davis,  for  the  first 
time  during  the  interview  showing  some  angry  feeling.  "  But 
Amnesty,  Sir,  applies  to  criminals.  We  have  committed  no 
crime.  Confiscation  is  of  no  account  unless  you  can  enforce 
it ;  and  Emancipation  !  You  have  already  emancipated  nearly 
two  millions  of  our  slaves,  and  if  you  will  take  care  of  them, 
you  may  emancipate,  the  rest.  I  had  a  few  when  the  war  be- 
gan. I  was  of  some  use  to  them ;  they  never  were  of  any  to 
me.  Against  their  will  you  '  emancipated '  them  ;  and  you 
may  'emancipate'  every  negro  in  the  Confederacy,  but  we  will 
be  free !  We  will  govern  ourselves !  We  will  do  it,  if  we 
have  to  sec  every  Southern  plantation  sacked,  and'  every 
Southern  citv  in  flames  !" 


280  DOAVN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

"I  see,  Mr.  Davis,  it  is  useless  to  continue  this  conversation," 
I  replied  ;  *'ancl  you  will  pardon  us  if  we  have  seemed  to  press 
our  views  with  too  much  pertinacity.  We  love  the  old  flag, 
and  that  must  be  our  apology  for  intruding  upon  yoii  at  all." 

"You  have  not  intruded  upon  me,"  he  replied,  resuming  his 
usual  manner.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,  both.  I  once 
loved  the  old  flag  as  well  as  you  do.  I  would  have  died  for  it ; 
but  now  it  is  to  me  only  the  emblem  of  oppression." 

"  I  hope  the  day  may  never  come,  Mr.  Davis,  when  /  sav 
that,"  said  the  Colonel. 

A  half-hour's  conversation  on  other  topics — not  of  public 
interest — ensued,  and  then  we  rose  to  go.  As  we  did  so  the 
Rebel  President  gave  me  his  hand,  and,  bidding  me  a  kindly 
"good-by,"  expressed  the  hope  of  seeing  me  again  in  Rich- 
mond in  happier  times — when  peace  should  have  returned — 
but  with  the  Colonel  his  parting  was  particularly  cordial. 
Taking  his  hand  in  both  of  his,  he  said  to  him : 

"Colonel,  I  respect  your  character  and  your  motives,  and  I 
-wish  you  well — I  wish  you  every  good  I  can  wish  you  consist- 
ently with  the  interests  of  the  Confederacy." 

The  quiet,  straightforward  bearing,  and  magnificent  moral 
courage  of  our  "fighting  parson"  had  evidently  impressed  Mr. 
Davis  very  favorably. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  room,  he  added : 

"  Say  to  Mr.  Lincoln  from  me,  that  I  shall  at  any  time  be 
pleased  to  receive  proposals  for  peace  on  the  basis  of  our  Inde- 
pendence.    It  will  be  useless  to  approach  me  with  any  other." 

When  we  went  out,  Mr.  Benjamin  called  Judge  Ould,  who 
had  been  w^aitiug  during  the  whole  interview — two  hours — at 
the  other  end  of  the  hall,  and  we  passed  down   the  stairwav 


IN    KICHMOND.  281 

together.  As  I  put  my  arm  within  that  of  the  Judge,  he  said 
to  mc : 

"  AYell,  what  is  the  result  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  war — war  to  the  knife." 

"  Ephraim  is  joined  to  his  idols — let  him  alone,"  added  the 
Colonel,  solemnly. 

The  next  day  we  visited  Castle  Thunder,  Libby  Prison,  and 
the  hospitals  occupied  by  our  wounded,  and  at  sundown  passed 
out  of  the  Rebel  lines,  thankful,  devoutly  thankful,  that  we 
were  once  again  under  the  folds  of  the  old  flag. 

Thus  ended  our  visit  to  Richmond.  I  have  endeavored  to 
sketch  it  faithfully.  The  conversation  with  Mr.  Davis  I  took 
down  shortly  after  returning  to  the  Union  lines,  and  I  have  tried 
to  report  his  exact  language,  extenuating  nothing  and  coloring 
nothing  that  he  said.  Some  of  his  sentences,  as  I  read  them 
over,  appear  stilted  and  high-llown,  but  they  did  not  sound  so 
when  uttered.  As  listened  to,  they  seemed  the  simple,  natural 
language  of  his  thought.  He  spok^  deliberately,  apparently 
weighing  every  word,  and  well  knowing  that  all  he  said  would 
be  given  to  the  public. 

He  is  a  man  of  great  ability.  Our  interview  explained  to 
me  why  with  no  money  and  no  commerce,  with  nearly  every 
one  of  their  important  cities  in  our  hands,  and  with  an  army 
greatly  inferior  in  numbers  and  equipment  to  ours,  the  Rebels 
have  held  out  so  long.  It  is  because  of  the  energy,  sagacity, 
and  indomitable  will  of  Jefferson  Davis.  Without  him  the 
Rebellion  would  crumble  to  pieces  in  a  day ;  with  him  it  may 
continue  to  be,  even  in  disaster,  a  power  that  .will  tax  the 
wliole  energy  and  resources  of  the  n;Uion. 


282  DOWN    IN    TENNESSEE. 

The  Southern  people  want  peace.  Many  of  the  Southern 
leaders  want  it — both  my  companion  and  I,  by  correspondence 
and  intercourse  with  them,  know  this — but  there  can  be  no 
peace  so  long  as  Mr.  Davis  controls  the  Soutli.  Ignoring 
Slavery,  he  himself  states  the  issue — the  only  issue  with  him — 
Union  or  Disunion.  That  is  it.  We  must  conquer  or  be 
conquered.  We  can  negotiate  only  with  the  bayonet.  We 
can  have  peace  only  by  putting  forth  all  our  strength,  crash- 
ing the  Southern  armies,  and  overthrowing  the  Southern 
Government. 


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A  COLLECTION  of  exquisitely  satirical   and  humorous  military 
criticisms.     Two  series.         .  1 2mo.  cloth,  each,  §1.50 

:n.  ITIiclielet's  W^orks. 

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Ernest  Renan. 

THE  LIFE  OF  JESUS.— Translated  by  C.  E.  Wilbour  from    the 

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LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLTSHED 


Cliarles  Reade. 

THE  CLOISTER  Am)  THE  HEAUTH.— A  magnificent  new  novel,  b). 

the  author  of  "  Hard  Cash,"  etc.       .  8vo.  cloth,  $2.00 

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J.  C.  JeafTrcson. 

A  BOOK  ABOUT  DOCTORS.— An  exceedingly  humorous  and  en- 
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Fred.  S.  Cozzens. 

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F.  D.  GuorrazzL 

BEATRICE  CEXCL— A  great  historical  novel.  Translated  from 
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A   large    quarto     volume,    sumptuously    bound   in  Turkey 
morocco,  .......     §25.00 

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THE  CLXPRIT  FAY.— The  most  charming  faery  poem  in  the 
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Mother  Goose  for  GroTm  Folks. 

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Stephen  Massett. 

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A  New  Sporting  "Work. 

THE  game:  FISH  OF  THE  NORTH.-One  of  the  best  books  on  fish 
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BT  CARLETON,  NEW  YORK. 


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Edmund  C.  Stedman. 
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S       LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  CARLETOX.  NEW  YORE:. 

ITIiscellaiieous  AVorks. 

ALKX.vi^DER  YON  HUMBOLDT.— Lite  and  travels. 
LIFE  OF  HUGH  MILLER,  the  Geologist.    . 
ADAM  GUROWSKl.— Diary  for  1863. 
D0ESTICK3.— The 'Elephant  Club,  illustrated.    . 
HUSBAND  AND  WIFE,  or  human  development. 
KOCKFORD.— A  novel  by  Mrs.  L.  D.  Umsted. 
THE  PRISONER  OF  STATE.— By  D.  A.  Mahony. 
THE  PARTISAN  LEADER.— By  Beverly  Tucker.  . 
SPREES  AND  SPLASHES.— By  Henry  Morford.  . 
AROUND  THE  PYRAMIDS.— By  Gen.  Aaron  Ward. 

CHINA  AND  THE  CHINESE.— By  W.  L.  G.  Smith. 

WANDERINGS  OF  A  BEAUTY.— Mrs  Edwin  James. 
THE  U.  S.  TAX  LAW.—"  Government  Edition." 
TREATISE  ON  DEAFNESS.— By  Dr.  E.  B.  LighthiU. 
LYRICS  OF  A  DAY— or  newspaper  poetry. 
GARRET  VAN  HORN.— A  novel  by  J.  S.  Sauzade. 

THE  NATIONAL  SCHOOL  FOR  THE  SOLDIER.— 

FORT  LAFAYETTE.— A  novel  by  Benjamin  Wood. 
THE  YACHTMAN'S  PRIMER.— By  T.  R.  Warren. 
GEN.  NATHANIEL  LYON.— Life  and  Writings.    . 

PHILIP  THAXTER.— A  novel. 

LITERARY  ESSAYS.— By  George  Brimley.  . 

HAYING  TIME    TO  HOPPING.— A  novel.       . 

THE  VAGABOND.— Essays  by  Adam  Badeau. 
EDGAR  POE  AND  HIS  CRITICS.— By  Mrs.  Whitman. 
TACTICS;  or,  Cupid  in  Shoulder-Straps. 

JOHN  DOE  AND  RICHARD  ROE.— A  novel. 

LOLA  MONTEZ.— Her  life  and  lectures.      . 
DEBT  AND  GRACE.— By  Rev.  C.  F.  Hudson.      . 
HUSBAND  vs.  WIFE.— A  comic  illustrated  poem. 
TRANSITION.— Edited  by  Rev.  H.  S.  Carpenter. 
ROUMANIA.— By  Dr.  Jas.  O.  Noyes,  illustrated. 

VERNON  GROVE.— A  novel.     .... 

ANSWER  TO  HUGH  MILLER.— By  T.  A.  Davies. 
COSMOGONY.— By  Thomas  A.  Davies. 
NATIONAL  HYMNS.— By  Richard  Grant  White. 
TWENTY  YEARS  Around  the  World.  J.  Guy  Vassar.  do.     83. 
^PIRIT  OF  HEBREW  POETRY.— By  Isaac  Taylor.         do.     $2.50 


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RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
491 


